In Hope of Things Once Lost
by ShellyStark
Summary: Peter wasn't always a womanizing pottymouth with a drinking problem. He had a normal life, with a family, and the beginnings of a high school sweetheart. What exactly happened on the night his parents were murdered? And how did that lead him to be who he is today? What happens when he is reunited with the one person that stuck by him even after leaving her behind once upon a time.
1. Chapter 1

_"I've learned that things change, people change, and it doesn't mean you forget the past or try to cover it up; it simply means that you move on and treasure the memories. Letting go doesn't mean giving up, it means accepting that some things weren't meant to be." _

_-Unknown_

**England, 1987**

Arms wrapped tightly around his legs, the young teenage, doe eyed boy sat rocking behind a pair of cupboard doors. The small slits in the wood not shielding his eyes from the impossible terrorizing blood-fest that was happening in front of him. Alone and helpless he watched as his father shot round after round at the menacing creature, walking steadily forward, smirking when a bullet actually hit his body. His father stared in horror as it dug the embedded chunk of shrapnel out of his flesh and let it fall to the floor with a harsh laugh. It took the monster a fraction of a second to sweep the gun from his father's hands and slash its clawed hand across his father's neck before tossing him clean across the room as if he were nothing but a paperweight. It then turned to his mother, his sweet innocent mother who was left cowering in the corner after finding the time to shove her only son into the cupboard.

Her eyes grew wide as he approached, shaking her head in some sort of desperate plea.

"Please," she sobbed. "Please don't do this."

"It's already done," the creature growled, stepping closer and placing a hand behind her neck. He grinned before rearing back his head and expanding his mouth, swiftly coming down and making contact with her neck. The noise, a gut wrenching cross between a slurp and the monsters greedy moans. He drank deeply, and the boy watched the life vanish out of his mother's twitching body, the crimson blood flowing down and staining her porcelain skin and the once cream coloured carpet.

He clamped his hand down over his mouth in a poor attempt to stifle his tears and whimpering.

It didn't work.

The creature stopped his feed and slowly scanned the room with its impossibly dark eyes. It smirked when its gaze reached the cupboard doors and wasted no time snapping his mother's neck and jumping in front of his small hiding space. Ripping the door off its hinges he stared at the boy, breathing in his young maturing scent, tilting his head from side to side thoroughly enjoying the panic and terror in those big beautiful eyes.

"Not tonight," it whispered, stretching its neck and taking on a human form and squinting. "Tonight, Peter Carlisle, you live."

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><p><strong>AN: So if things work out right this will shape up to be a Peter/OC fic (really that man does deserve more love) I have some nagging plot bunnies but there will be a few more flash backs involved, but not so many that it feels like an episode of Lost. Hopefully you will enjoy, even if this is just a short beginning. Let me know, reviews are better than cupcakes with sprinkles on top!**

**-Shelly**


	2. Chapter 2

Peter recoiled in fear, shuffling back until he hit the wall inside the cupboard. A few boxes tumbled down from the top shelf; painstakingly happy family photos littering the floor and distracting the young teen. The monster before him chuckled as he watched the memories tear at Peter's heart.

"Why not just do me in now then?" Peter whispered glaring at the creature with tear stained cheeks and vengeful eyes.

A one sided smirk grew across its face and it cocked its head.

"They've done nothing to you!" Peter yelled, his anger taking control and bringing forth a moment of courage he would soon regret. "They didn't do anything to deserve this!" He pushed back hard on the monsters shoulders again and again, not moving its body a fraction on an inch no matter how forceful he was; all the while it kept that sinister grin across its face. Peter pounded away on the creature's chest shouting any and all obscenities that found their way into his head.

"You sick bastard, why us? Why the fuck come after us!" Peter cried.

It took a millisecond for it to grab hold Peter's small body and twist his arm behind his back, dragging him out of the cupboard and pushing him face first against the adjacent wall, forcing Peter to stare at the bloodied bodies of his parents.

"Because you little shit, your parents didn't have the smarts to let me be, they just had to meddle in my business. They learned things that they shouldn't have." It brought Peter back and slammed him back into the wall before bringing its jaws close to his ear, the force of the blow causing a small amount of blood to trickle down the side of his face.

"Now look at them, look at what their pestering did. They brought this on themselves kid. And you…well you'll just have to live the rest of your life alone, running and afraid. Because let's face it kid, who's going to believe you when you tell them that a _vampire_ killed your folks. Nobody." Lowering its head, it inhaled deeply and pressed a soft kiss to the side of Peter's neck. "Shame too, your scent is so…sweet and still so innocent. But don't worry, your time will come. I'll be back for you, someday."

There was a rush of air at Peters back and the room went quiet. He turned around to face nothing but a dark empty room. Well, not entirely empty, his mother and father's limp bodies were still heaped on the floor. Peter got down on his hands and knees, slowly crawling over to them.

Gathering his mother up in his arms, he held her body close against his own and rocked her while he wept, staining his clothes with her lifeblood. Her matted hair soaked in his grieving tears and saliva as Peter cried freely, choking on his sobs and howling over his losses.

He stayed by their sides through the night and into the early morning, too worked up to notice that his parent's bodies were beginning to smolder.

It didn't take long for the first sunray to reach his father's body, sending up a quick flare before his body transformed into a cloud of ash.

"No, no, no, no, no," Peter cried, trying to drag his mother's now stiff body out of the way of the impending rays. But he was too late, the damage was done, and shortly after she too was reduced to nothing but a curtain of embers. He sank down the wall and onto the floor and grieved again, dragging his fingers over the dusty stained carpeting.

Eventually he found the strength to pull himself away. To pack a duffle and leave the place he had called home for most of his childhood. He had no family left, not here anyway, not that they would want to look after him, they distanced themselves long ago after growing tired of his parent's constant obsession with supernatural lore.

Strapping his bag to his back he mounted his bicycle, pure adrenaline forcing his feet through the motions of peddling. There was only one place in his mind that he wanted to go, one place he could go and feel that he would be accepted in with open arms. The newfound orphan pushed on into the morning hours. The now silent tears still making trails down his dirtied cheeks, pining for the life he had before his life was reduced to cinders and blown away from him.

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><p><strong>AN Sorry for the shortness again. I just felt we needed to tie things off here before jumping in to something else. RandR and enjoy!**

**-Shelly**


	3. Chapter 3

"Randi, open up!" Peter hollered as his small fists banged against the English colonial home. "Come, on Miranda, please, please, open the damned door," he whispered half to himself as he bounced on his heels. His body was still shaking with fear, shaking and now waiting for his best friend to answer her door, hoping that her father was away and he could spend the rest of his night in a warm and welcome environment.

"Jesus Peter, I was in bed," a sleepy brown haired girl answered the door a little smaller than he, but clearly older in the eyes. Her dark iris's met his and saw the fear there and quickly ushered him in. "Pete what happened!" she asked in alarm, rushing to get a blanket from the closet and wrapping it around his shivering shoulders.

"Your dad home?" Peter half asked, grabbing the blanket gratefully and taking a seat on the paisley patterned couch.

"You come over in the middle of the night, looking like…well looking like that and then you ask about my dad? What do you want with him?"

"Just answer me Randi, is he here?" Peter breathed, grabbing her by the shoulders, his big round eyes frantically searching her face for an answer. He needed the answer he was searching for, if her father would have been there, surely the racket would have brought him downstairs by now. And still the house was so quiet.

It took her a few moments, her eyes still lingering on his blood stained clothing; but Miranda slowly shook her head no and let her arm settle on Peter's knee, putting on a strong façade hoping it would settle him down. "Now, tell me what happened,"

"I don't think I can," Peter laughed darkly, something snarky twinkling in his eyes.

"If you can't tell me, who can you tell?" She whispered softly.

It was scary how quickly he came to trust her. Some new girl shows up to his school with an American accent and he feels the need to befriend her straight away. It wasn't as is she was popular anyhow; she was quiet, kept to herself unless spoken too, a bit brainy and seeing as she was one of those military kids, her father was never around. As for her mother, well…nobody knew about her mother, not even Peter, it was just one of those things you didn't dare ask about.

"It killed my parents," Peter started sheepishly, hanging his head low and looking toward the fire place.

"Your parents? Your parents are dea- Peter you have to call the police!" Miranda said frantically, reaching towards the nearest phone.

"No!" Peter grabbed her hand and put a stop to her movement. "There is nothing they can do; they can't do anything to it." He scoffed inwardly to himself, what would they do, stake it, burn it, douse it in holy water.

"What the hell do you mean it, Peter?" Miranda berated, cocking her head slightly, "what happened?"

"It killed them, I watched as it took their lives right in front of me!" Peter took a deep breath, "I watched as their bodies burned," he sobbed.

"Who?" Miranda Demanded. "Who was he?"

"Not he, Randi," Peter admitted through wide eyes shaking his head. "_It_ was a vampire. He was a vampire. So…alluring, bloody hell, he practically invited himself in."

"Wait a minute," Miranda scoffed, "you are trying to tell me a _vampire_ came to your place and _killed_ your parents?"

Peter nodded frantically and swallowed, "uh huh."

"Well what a coincidence Peter, cause the bogeyman himself came and took my mom away," she uttered sarcastically waving a hand at him before getting up and going into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"Miranda, I'm serious," Peter stormed after her.

"Mmmhmm," she hummed while digging through the fridge.

"Look," he demanded, slamming the door and holding it shut with his arm. Towering over her despite the fact that she was the elder of the two. "I know what I saw, I _know_ what happened,"

"Peter its jus—"

He put a hand on her shoulder to silence her quickly. Peter lifted up the corner of his shirt and let her see the bruises that were already starting to form from his rough housing. Her hands ghosted over his abdomen.

"Would I really do this to myself?" He asked quietly, "or am I really creative enough to think of this on my own." Peter stuffed a piece of crumpled up piece of paper into her hands, with some sort of intricate design etched onto one side then headed over to her dad's liquor cabinet.

"Pete, what is this?" Miranda questioned quietly, turning over the paper in her hands, "and what the hell are you doing?"

"His clan…thing, and I'm looking for a drink."

"Is that the official term," she scoffed, rolling her eyes, "put the booze down, Peter," she said without looking. Peter eyed the green liquid in his hand before sadly placing it back on the shelf.

"I don't quite know what it's called; all's I know is that he left it behind. Pinned it to the wall before he jumped out the window."

Peter slumped down to the floor and brought his knees up to his chest, placing his head in the small gap before him.

"What am I going to do Randi," he whispered.

"Well," she situated herself next to him on the cool tile and slinked an arm around his shoulder comfortingly. "You're going to stay here till dad gets home, that'll give you a week,"

Peter sniffed and rolled his head to look at her through his big dark glossy eyes.

"You'll have to go home eventually, Peter," she said "you're going to have to face those demons soon or a later, but I'll be here," Miranda dropped a motherly kiss on his forehead, "always."

"No, you won't," he sniffed again and chuckled darkly, "you'll be off soon enough, off to another strange land, making new friends, and forgetting about the mousy boy you met while abroad."

"I won't," she argued

"You will."

"I won't," she got up and extended her hands towards him, pulling him up to his feet. "Now let's get you off to bed."

Miranda put him up in her dad's room, she figured he would need something far more comfy than the couch, especially if he'd be staying the rest of the week. She had to talk him into going to school and pretending that everything was normal; she didn't even want to think what the other students would say if he told them what had happened, shit, she wasn't even sure she even bought what he was saying. But Peter never had a reason to tell her something other than the truth, and if something did happen to his parents she would be there to help him through it.

The first time he woke screaming she rushed into the room and shook his pale, clammy, thrashing body awake. She dampened a cloth and wiped him down all the while humming and reminding herself of her own mother. Quickly she shook the thoughts from her mind and continued to calm him.

It was never too long though; before he would start again. She would settle herself down in her own covers, and just as the world was slipping away his cries would enter her ears and pull her abruptly from her bed. And in she would come, rag in hand, prepared to calm and hum him back to sleep. Eventually she gave up and stayed by his bedside, rocking and humming away, waiting for the inevitable. Miranda's humming turned into soft singing, barely above a whisper and her fingers raked through the top of his hair.

"When I grew up and fell in love

I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead,

Will there be rainbows day after day,

And here's what my sweetheart said.

Que sera, sera; whatever will be will be,

The futures not ours to see, que sera, sera."

She inhaled a shuddering breath and let her eyes slip closed.

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><p>"Randi?" Peter's voice croaked out in the darkness.<p>

"Shh," she hushed him, "sleep Peter."

"Your mum—"

"Good night Peter," Miranda sighed.

Peter opened his mouth, letting his lips form a small o before sealing them shut again. "Right." He nodded once. "Good night then."

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><p><strong>AN: woo hoo yes I am alive and well, just been feeling a little ill and busy in other fandoms. Anyone see The Decoy Bride yet, it was soo adorable :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Rain Check**

When Miranda woke, she could hear the shower running and she squinted at the amount of light peeking out through the small opening in the master bathroom door. The sheets surrounding her were a mangled mess covered in a mixture of soot and dirt and tiny traces of blood were on Peter's pillows.

"That's never going to come out," she groaned, yanking the sheets free and balling them up before tossing them in the corner to be washed later.

Making her way down the hall into the opposing bathroom, she took her own shower; happy to be free of the dirt that had rubbed off on her in the night. She thought it would be best that they both stayed hom; a missed day of school or two wouldn't get them in too much trouble, besides Peter could do with some extra rest. Peter, who was still in the shower, and she was almost positive the water had long since turned cold.

Miranda padded back into the bedroom and gently rapped on the door, which swayed ever so gently on its hinges.

"Peter?" she called out softly. "Peter, I think it's about time you come out."

Nothing. No reply came, just the steady beating of the shower spray.

"C'mon now, Pete."

There was a light shuffling but still no answer.

"Peter?" She squeaked attempting to hide the concern in her voice.

"Go away," his small tone finally replied through the crack.

"I really think it'd be best for you to come out now, Peter." Miranda chewed her bottom lip and her finger tips gripped the edges of the door frame, scratching off small pieces of white paint.

"I said leave me be!" he shouted at her, hurling a shampoo bottle in her direction; forcing her fingers to go into a knuckle white grip.

Miranda held her breath in for a moment or two before slowly letting it out and trying again.

"Pete—"

"Just go, Miranda," he choked out, "just go." His small voice was frail and barely above a whisper.

She took a chance by glancing behind the crack of the door and peeking at the mirror; his small shaking shoulders reflected off the glass and his arms wrapped around his knees. At his feet was a small orange bottle with a missing top. Miranda pushed the door open and pulled a towel from the rack, quickly turning off the now cold water and wrapping the towel around Peter's small shivering frame. The pills had gathered around the shower drain and were now nothing but a pile of white mush clogging the small silver holes, Peter's wide doe eyes fixated on what was left of them, his fingers now clinging to the edges of the towel as he rocked.

"Christ Peter, are you insane?" Miranda breathed as coaxed his body into a standing position and turned to allow him to adjust the towel around his narrow waist.

"No, I'm not," he replied, still staring at the empty bottle and the pile of mush. "Terrified, confused, defeated, but I'm not mad Randi." He raised his head to look at her; hair dripping and eyes glossy, "If he is going to do me in anyway, why put it off, why wait for him to jump out of the shadows when I can end it all now." Peter turned his cheek to hide the stray tear that fell from the corner of his eye. "Because I'm a puss that's why. Afraid of what's to come, yet afraid to do it on me own."

"I have to say Peter," Miranda glanced at the dissolving muck in the shower drain with a smirk, "antacids aren't a glamorous way to go."

"Antacids?" Peter asked with a scrunched up face.

"Yea," she scoffed, "dad has some nasty heartburn every now and then, got some sort of prescription for it." Miranda brought her attention back to Peter and jabbed her finger into his chest. "Don't you ever do that again!" She poked him again, and Peter backed into the sink. "You listen here Peter, you are not going to take the easy way out, because there is no easy way out of this, you don't even know if this…this…this thing will show up again or when, so until then you are going to go on with your life, and if he does come back I know you will be able to face him."

Peter took a small step towards her. "I can't Randi, I can't do it alone," he breathed.

"You don't have to, I told you Peter, always." Tears fell freely from the corners of her dark eyes. "I'll never leave you, Peter," Miranda whispered and let her eyes slip close as his hand slid against her cheek and she pressed into him.

"What about your dad, what if he gets re-stationed."

"I'll be eighteen soon, I'll get my own place, granted it will most likely be a dump, but it would be a place to call my own."

"Our own," he whispered, bringing his other hand up and taking another step closer, "seeing as I would have nowhere else to go."

"Peter—"

"I have no one else now Miranda, only you," he interrupted; wiping away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "And if I'm to be sticking around, there's no one else I'd rather be with." His hand slid beneath her hair and behind her neck as he bent down and ever so slowly pressed his lips to hers, soft and gentle.

She let her hands go around his simple waist and come to rest above the roll in his towel, pulling her into him as his tongue traced her bottom lip. Miranda's hand fisted in Peter's towel and pulled him closer still when he pushed past her lips and into her mouth, still holding her as if she was comparable to a porcelain doll, with so much care and tenderness. His hands slowly made their way down her waist and his thumbs dipped beneath the hem of her shorts, caressing her skin with small soft circles as he walked her back against the wall. Miranda found her hands tangled in his messy brown hair and Peter's mouth was now traveling down her neckline, pressing small open mouthed kisses to her skin.

"Peter stop." She hated to say it, it all felt so right, Peter had always felt right; but she couldn't let him go through with this. Not now, not like this. His lips found their way back up to hers and he kissed her softly and she couldn't help but kiss him back.

"Peter, please," she whispered between kisses. "We can't."

"Yes we can, Miranda, It was bound to happen; I _want_ it to happen," he murmured against her skin.

She brought her hands up to rest on his chest and pressed slightly, just enough to be able to get a good look into his now darkened eyes.

"Not like this, not this way," she whispered with a sad smile.

Peter slowly blinked and nodded slowly, taking a step forward and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead before resting his against hers.

"Rain check then," he grinned with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Ass," Miranda laughed, and playfully slapped his arm, retreating out of the bathroom and gathering up the soiled sheets to be washed.

"Yeah, well some things never change," Peter said with a cock of his head, "no matter what happens."

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><p><strong>AN: I can't apologize enough for the lateness of any of my updates, but I've been going through some major health issues, you can check out my profile for more info if you'd like. Anyway, I know this seems kind of fast, but it needs to be set up, may start working on some other neglected stories as well so keep an eye out. Don't forget to hit that now ginormous blue button. It makes me feel wonderful!**

**Big love!**

**-Shelly**


	5. Chapter 5

** Here We Are**

School was a task that was easier said than done. Peter went, but he wasn't actually there. In the few classes that he and Miranda shared; the distant look in his eyes was plain for her to see. He began to spend all his time between classes in the library, taking an interest in anything related to demonology or vampires that he could wrap his head around; stirring up talk on campus.

Miranda's father was scheduled to come home the day after tomorrow, and Peter had put himself so far away from her over the past few days, barley speaking to her, with the exception of his still ever going night terrors. She decided to skip her lunch period today, spend it trying to coax Peter out of his slump, or whatever it was. She found him at a table in the back, hunched over a pile of books with his head in the crook of his elbow, his sandy hair sticking in every which direction, his breathing slow and steady.

"Peter," she coaxed softly, gently moving his shoulder.

"Mmm," he groaned and turned his head in the other direction.

"Peter wake up," she tried again, attempting to smooth out the mess of hair on top his head.

"Why, no nightmares here," he mumbled and opened an eye to glance at her.

"Well, I don't see why, with all this shit you keep pouring into your brain, it's enough to give anyone nightmares."

Peter sat up and rolled the sleeves of his shirt back down and fastened the button before turning in his chair to face her. "It just doesn't seem real here, you know, like everything is normal."

"I know," Miranda smiled sadly and straightened out his tie. "Peter listen," she began, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

"Your dad comes home soon, I know. Don't worry, I'll be gone." Peter got up, gathering the books and shoving them in his bag and slinging his jacket over his arm before he turned to walk away.

"Gone?" Miranda began after him, "What do you mean gone? You're just going to leave, that's it, just up and go? Do it all on your own?"

Peter kept on until he was out the doors of the library and into the courtyard, and kept going.

"Peter," she almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides. "Peter wait."

"What?" He stopped and spun to face her, his lips pursed and eyes glaring.

She stood in silence as he stood and stared at her, his big dark eyes penetrated hers. Miranda was left unable to say a word.

"What do you want, Miranda?" Peter took a step toward her and put both hands on her shoulders. "Want me to tell you everything is going to be alright? Because it's not!"

There was a fire behind his eyes now; something she had never seen before, the small scared boy she had come to know was vanishing before her eyes.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen, Miranda," Peter snarled, "I'm going to go back home, and my nights are going to be sleepless and my days are going to be miserable, and you are going to be in your nice comfy bed with daddy right down the hall. I watched my parents burn, Randi, _every night_, I watch them burn."

Peter loosened his grip and let his hands drop from her shoulders and sighed.

"Miranda, look,"

"Just go," she whispered looking down at the pavement, tracing a crack with the toe of her shoe.

"Randi—"

"Just go, Peter," she repeated, blinking at the freshly formed tears in her shattered brown eyes.

Peter gently grabbed her wrist. "Randi I'm sor—"

She turned her head and pulled away from him, closing her eyes and swallowing the burning lump in her throat.

"I'll see you tonight, yeah?" he asked hopefully, his voice pained and full of regret and he released the hold he had on her arm

Miranda nodded once and swiftly headed off in the opposite direction and back into the building.

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><p>Peter returned late to a quiet house, despite the school bag beside the front door. She was usually good about having takeaway ordered in time for them to eat and sit in front of the telly for the rest of the night. He was going to miss it, their odd domesticity; but he knew it couldn't last. With her father returning he would be forced to return to his ashned family flat with its blood smeared carpeting and walls. He shook his head free of the memory and toed off his shoes, making his way up the stairs.<p>

"Randi?" He called tenderly as he lightly knocked against her bedroom door.

Of course she didn't answer; there was no doubt in her mind that she was cross with him, she had every right to be, he had been a proper prat.

"You best be dressed, Miranda, because I'm coming in, whether you are or not."

Miranda was curled up on the bed facing the wall, holding a pillow to her chest; allowing the occasional sniffle to be heard.

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair, sitting on the edge of the bed before wrapping himself around her and slinking his arm around her waist. Miranda intertwined her fingers with his and laid in silence.

"I'm sorry, Miranda," he said softly, burying his face in the hair behind her neck. "So, so, sorry. I didn't want to shout, to get angry, I'm just so afraid to go back there," Peter sighed, "of what might be waiting for me."

Miranda gave his hand a squeeze and turned over in his arms, finding herself staring into his sad doe eyes. "You don't have to go alone, Peter, I've already told you that. But somehow you can't get that through your thick head," she said with a slight smile.

"But your dad—"

"Shut it," she cut him off "I'm a big girl, Peter, I'm allowed to stay over at a friend's house for a few days, it'll be fine, I promise."

Miranda tucked herself against him and he let his chin rest against the top of her head and brought his arms around her back. Both of them content to be in the others company.

"You know," Peter drawled out, and then cleared his throat. "I'm here, you're here," he continued.

"Yes—" Miranda replied cautiously.

"And here we are," he paused, "on this bed."

"Jesus, Peter, never takes you long does it?" Miranda complained, grabbing a pillow and giving him a thwack on the head with it.

"Must be the age, hormones and what not," he shrugged and waggled his eyebrows.

"Yeah, well, no," Miranda shook her head. "Seriously, with all this going on, how can you think about that?" she waved her arms around the room before accusingly pointing it at him and his bottom half.

Peter looked back at her with that boyish smirk and only shrugged again.

"I'm going to order something for dinner." Miranda shook her head and watched as Peter smugly rolled over on his back, crossed his legs and locked his fingers behind his head.

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><p><strong>AN Yea, yea, I know, I know, fillers, fillers. We're going back to the flat soon, plenty of nasty stuff there, as long as my muse keeps me busy and full of DT I'll have some good stuff to write. I have plans of how I want to tie this into the movie, but getting it into the ending is going to be a pain in the ass. I guess I have a while to work that out. In the meantime, don't forget to press that glorious blue button!**

**-Shelly**


	6. Chapter 6

**Single Father**

"I don't like it Miranda," her father, Christopher Chapman, said warningly as she packed her duffle with enough clothes for a few days. He had arrived home as scheduled, midday on a Saturday afternoon; not a bit surprised that Peter was at the house, he usually was. Christopher liked the boy well enough, he was a good kid with good intentions, and Miranda enjoyed his company. All the moving around had always been tough on her, so seeing her able to make a true friend really did please him.

He just wasn't keen on her going to stay with him for the next few days.

"Dad, it's fine, I'll be fine. I'm not your little girl anymore," Miranda argued, pulling a few final things from the top of the closet shelf and closing the double doors. "Besides, Peter is a good guy that is going through some bad things; he needs a friend right now."

"And that friend needs to be you?" her father asked, crossing her room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed, plucking a tank top out of the bag and dangling it with his fingers, eying the item of clothing suspiciously.

"Yes, it has to be me," she replied slowly, pulling the top from his tightened grip. The shirt finally gave way and lightly tapped her face before she balled it back up and stuffed it back in her bag. "Look, things haven't exactly been great for Peter at school; he's pretty much cut everyone off but me. It's only a few days, three, maybe four."

"You were wrong you know," he smirked, running a hand through his cropped blonde hair.

"What about?" She asked absentmindedly zipping up her bag.

"You'll always be my little girl, Randi, I just want to look out for you, that's all," he sighed, "and that's kind of hard to do seeing as I'm never here to do it," he said with an awkward smile.

"It's all right daddy," she smiled, slinging the bag over her shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek and giving him a quick hug. "Just think of it as one of those sleep overs," she whispered, before walking out the room and heading down the stairs.

"With a boy! A hormonally charged boy!" he yelled after her.

"I'll be fine," she laughed, slipping on her shoes and going out the front door to be with Peter who was already waiting for her on other side.

Poor thing, he looked a like a nervous wreck. Hair pulled in every which direction, feverishly bouncing on his toes, constantly mumbling to himself and running his hands over his face.

"Not a chance, no way he's going to allow this," she heard him grumble from the door way. "I sure as hell wouldn't let my teenage daughter go off in the night with some horny boy," he muttered.

"Good thing I'm not your daughter then," Miranda spoke up, almost causing him to fall over on the pavement.

"You…you've got a bag packed," Peter blinked in amazement.

"It would appear so," she grinned.

"He went for it then, you're actually going to stay in the flat with me?"

"For a few days, yes," Miranda nodded and hopped down the steps to be by his side.

"Ha!" Peter cried out in a fit of joy and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and spinning her around in a small circle, laughing all the while.

"Keep it in your pants Carlisle," Miranda's father's voice rang out warningly from the entry way. Peter immediately released her and took a few steps back. Christopher always did intimidate him. "Miranda didn't exactly tell me what your…troubles are, but if you touch my little girl—"

"No sir. Don't you worry, Mr. Chapman, Randi is strictly here for emotional support, not physical." Peter said shakily.

Christopher's eyebrows arched accusingly.

"Not that I would ever, um, physically…um…Miranda…um…she's just my, well she's just my, my um, my…but not that I don't want to…uh well," Peter cleared his throat and nervously looked between the two of them at a loss of words.

"We should get going dad, before it gets dark," Miranda jumped in, linking her arm through Peters.

Her father nodded and slowly with his first two fingers pointed at his eyes and then extended them to Peter.

"Right," Peter agreed and quickly took Miranda's bag along with his own and shoved it in the back seat of her car.

"He doesn't like me," Peter said under his breath once they were down the street.

"He likes you just fine," Miranda laughed. "I'm an only child, a girl at that, and raised by a single parent," she argued, "he's just…protective."

"Yea, protective," Peter mumbled.

Miranda eased the car up to a stop sign and let her head fall back on the head rest to face him. He stared back at her with those big worried eyes.

"Don't worry Peter, I won't let my dad," she paused and patted his leg "chop your bits off," she grinned, pulling a British accent.

Peter smirked. "That was the worst thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth."

"Shut up." Miranda undid her seat belt and slid across the bench seat on her knees. She held his gaze for a few moments, and gave him a warm smile before she leaned in and softly pressed her lips against his, her hands gently draped behind his neck playing with the hair that rested there. Peter responded, gingerly, his hands supporting her waist as she deepened their kiss. She rested her forehead against his when she pulled away and grinned.

"What was that for?" Peter breathed.

"Things are most likely going to get pretty ugly. So I wanted to give you something…pretty." Miranda smiled shyly. "Something good to hold on to."

"Anything from you is worth holding on to, Miranda," Peter blushed, squeezing her hands.

Miranda felt her cheeks turn a matching shade of pink and she promptly slid back over to her seat and refastened her belt. "You ready?" She asked, glancing at him before pulling out onto the main road.

"No," he shook his head and turned his attention to the window.

"Me neither," Miranda Whispered. "Me neither."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:Okay, okay, I really, really wanted them at Peter's place at this chapter, but then dear old dad came along...and things happened. And don't ask what about that mess in the car, that wasn't planned, that dirty old Peter must have been whispering in my ear because it just came out. So yea, it was going to be longer, and split in half, but then the dad thing got carried away and smooching happened and I'm sorry! But next time there will be blood, I promise. And quite possibly cursing, because that is the Peter we love, not really this mushy cutsey wootsey Peter...although he is quite adorable! Don't forget to push that big ass blue button! Make Shelly happy!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Crimson Ash**

Peter's family flat was in the upper portion of a mid-size duplex, the lower section belonging to an elderly couple that had lived there for the past thirty years. The area could have been a little better; not that it was bad; they just didn't seem to fit in there. Peter's father had been a well-respected lawyer and his mother a nurse and yet they chose to live here, in such close quarters. Miranda had never understood it; when she asked, Peter had told her that they had wanted to keep a low profile, never wanting to expand on the matter.

Miranda parked the car in the small space and pulled up the brake. Thankfully for them, Mr. and Mrs. Drindage were out, allowing Miranda and Peter to slowly ascend the stairway with their bags in hand. They reached the Carlisle's door and Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out the key, sliding it into the slot one notch at a time, turning until they both heard the click of the lock releasing. He re-pocketed the key and looked to Miranda, who gave him a reassuring nod and he pushed the door open.

The air inside the flat was cool and stale; vacant only a week and it had already begun to look as if it were abandoned. The usually spotless end tables and lampshades were littered with a thin film of dust, sparkling in the sunbeams that shone through the window shades. Peter took a few steps in and flipped the light switch.

"Not so bad, just a bit of dust yeah?" Peter said with an awkward grin.

She let a finger slide down the length of one of the lamp shades and across the window sill, blowing off the dust that had accumulated on her finger tip.

"A bit," she agreed, circling the living room gloomily regarding at the family photos that littered the mantle.

Miranda's eyes reached the closed door looming at the end of the hall, already she could make out the faint brown and ashened footprints on the floor.

"We have to go in there Peter," she uttered regretfully.

Peter pursed his lips and stared at the door, taking a breath in and holding it a long while before he let it out.

"I don't know if I can," he whispered, keeping his eyes fixated at the end of the hall. It had become a journey he had been trying to get himself ready for, but there was no preparing yourself for something like that. Not that he could find.

Miranda stepped up beside him and laced her fingers with his. Peter met her eyes with his own; she had never seen him look so lost before, so vulnerable.

"You have to try," she stated with a sad smile, "and I'll be right beside you." Miranda gently squeezed his hand and Peter nodded; and with shaky legs he began to tread down the hall, stopping halfway to take several deep breaths before they continued.

It wasn't long after that that the smell began to creep beneath the door; the scent of copper and iron combined with burnt wood. The closer they got the stronger it grew and Miranda soon found herself with her head pressed into the sleeve of Peter's shirt. She made the mistake of glancing down at the carpet and saw the remains of the dried blood foot prints that Peter had left behind; she bit her bottom lip as tears stung her eyes and her eyes found the wall. Smeared handprints made up of a mixture of ash and blood bounced off one side of the wall to the other. And the smell grew stronger.

Peter felt her grip tense up on his arm.

"This is nothing, aftermath is all," his voice croaked, as they came to a halt in front of the door.

Peter swallowed and looked down at her out of the corner of his eye, his fingers finding hers and holding on tighter than ever. She gave a single nod and with his other hand he reached out and wrapped his hand around the knob, turning it slowly. They could taste the rusted metal in their mouths, strong enough to make them want to gag, the door scraping along the remaining blood and dredging it across the once plush carpeting.

Miranda clamped a hand over her mouth, not being able to believe what she was actually seeing. She could see where their bodies had been slumped against the ground and burned, where Peter had been slammed into the wall, the claw marks that the creature had left deep into the wood grain. There were bullet holes in the wall on the far side of the room, she was guessing where his father had taken a few shots and missed; then there was the flattened bullets on the floor, she could only imagine how that had happened. There were still a few pools of blood around the bed and near the closet, soaked into the pictures that had toppled from the broken shelves.

"Oh god, Peter," she whispered, allowing horror stricken tears to trickle down her cheeks.

Peter hadn't moved. In fact if anything his hold on her had only increased and her hand was nearly numb because of it. He too had silent tears falling out the corners of his eyes, his mouth hanging open in a state of shock.

"Peter I'm so sorry," Miranda said softly, wiping her face with her sleeve. She turned to face him and put her hand on his shoulder to attempt to get his attention. He looked at her briefly, with his eyes still wide and puffy. He held her gaze for a moment or two before he released her hand and wiped his own face and walked over to the edge of the bed, stepping around the pools of his parent's darkened blood. Peter bent over and rests his hands on the sides of the rail, hanging his head so that the fringe of his hair covered his face. His shoulders shook as he choked out sobs and grieved for his parents. Miranda began to take a step forward, reaching a hand out to rest on his back.

"Fuck!" Peter yelled, overturning the bed and slamming the mattress into the wall.

Miranda withdrew her hand and backed up.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he continued screaming over and over again, pushing over the frame and ripping down the curtains. Peter found his way into the closet; with the doors already gone he threw himself against the wall and slid to the floor.

"Fuck," he cried again, putting his head in his hands and crying freely.

Miranda moved slowly, taking only one step at a time, until she too was in the small closet space by Peter's side. She took her place beside him and immediately he curled into her, resting his head against her chest as she folded her arms around him.

As she held him she knew he was changing, he would never be the same Peter she knew, he would always have this dark thing hovering above him; there was no going back from that. Somehow he would find a way to get through this; she just hoped that he would be able to do it in one piece and without a trip to the nut house.

"I kept telling myself, maybe, just maybe, it wasn't real," he whispered when the tears stopped flowing. "I just want to forget it all, Randi, make it all go away."

Miranda rubbed small circles into his back and couldn't help but look down at the pictures that sat around her. Peter and his family on vacation, happy and smiling on some sort of beach.

"I wish I could, Peter," she sighed, pressing a kiss into his damp hair. "For now, what we can do is get out of this room and cleaned up."

"What happens tomorrow?" he asked with a sniff, "What happens when I come back in here and freak out again."

"We'll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow." Miranda gently leaned him to the side and stood up, extending her hand to help him to his feet and pull him out of the room, shutting the room behind her.

Miranda moved both of their bags from the living room down the opposite hall into Peter's room, who followed glumly behind her. He sat on the edge of the bed as she unpacked his things and tossed what needed to be washed into a hamper.

"I'm sorry…for that…earlier," he said nervously while keeping his eyes on the floor. "If I frightened you…"

"Peter stop," she interrupted, crossing the room and sitting next to him. "I think you have every right to do what you did, don't apologize for it," she smiled softly.

Peter gave her a weak one sided grin in return.

"Now go, wash up." She nudged him with her shoulder in a lame attempt to push him off the bed. "I have to think of something to tell my father. This is not just going to be a few days.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, it is nearly three AM and I am pooped! I used to write all the time at this hour...not anymore. Time for bed. To sleepy to comb through it tonight, if anything awful jumps out at you let me know and I'll fix it, Okay? YAY! Hope you enjoyed your blood filled temper tantrum, don't forget to press that big blue button. I love you all and Good night!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Don't Dig**

They sat across from each other at the kitchen table; a thing that had once seemed so crowded when Miranda had come to visit had now seemed over-sized in retrospect. Peter idly pushed his food around the edge of his plate with his fork; occasionally looking up to meet her worried brown eyes. She wasn't eating much of her dinner either, but rather than shoving it around she just let it go untouched.

"Well this was rather pointless," Peter sighed dropping his fork and slumping down in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I'm not going to school tomorrow," Miranda stated plainly, pushing her plate to the side.

"Then what are we doing?" Peter turned his head to the ceiling and began to tilt his chair back and forth on its legs.

She waited a moment before answering; she had thought a great deal about what needed to be done and about how it was actually going to get done. And she hated to do things this way; she just figured that things would be easier without him there. "_You_ are going, _I_ am staying."

"What for?" he asked nonchalantly as he continued to lean back in his chair.

Miranda took a deep breath, "So I can start clearing out that room."

The legs of the chair slammed down onto the floor and Peter took hold of the table. "I'm sorry what?" he demanded.

"It needs to be done, Peter," she retorted cuttingly. "Is that something you really want to do yourself? Wash your parent's blood off the walls?"

"Oh that's real nice, Miranda," he snarled shoving the chair away and storming off from the table; his door slamming not long after.

Miranda groaned, and ran her hands through her hair, tugging at her scalp. She should have known this wasn't going to go smoothly; Peter's temper lately was about as short as a thumb tack and just as sharp. Not that she didn't deserve it. She could have been a little nicer about it, her reaction was rather harsh; but she hadn't exactly had time to react over the loss of his parents either. The Carlisle's were always good to her, never thought twice about taking her in while her father was away so she didn't have to be alone. Miranda's eye caught attention on the photo stuck on the fridge, the two of them crammed in a telephone booth, a classic tourist picture. It was in her first year of being here and she had to practically beg him to take it. They found a passerby willing to operate the camera and at the last minute she bounced up on tiptoe and threw her arms around his neck, so there he was eyes wide and cheeks red with a bashful smile on his face. She chuckled softly at the memory, shaking her head.

"Oh, Peter," She sighed, getting up from the table to get a closer look at the photo's yellow edging. She grinned as she let her fingers trace the edges, wishing she really could make him forget everything, that somehow things could go back to the way they were.

Miranda cleared the table and tiptoed to Peter's room, knocking gently. When there was no answer, she slowly pushed open the door. He was fast asleep; albeit he was sprawled across the bed, with only one shoe off, his head tucked into the crook of his elbow and his shirt creeping up his back, but he was asleep. She shut the door quietly and grabbed a blanket from the closet beside his room, toeing off her own shoes and attempting to make herself comfortable on the couch.

This would have been a hell of a lot easier if she hadn't been staring at that damn door. Even when she turned around she could still feel it leering behind her, as if something was still lurking in there, waiting for them. Miranda kicked off the blanket in frustration and pulled the couch into the middle of the room. It looked horribly out of place, but at least the door was out of view. She curled up and pulled the blanket up around her head, steadily breathing herself to sleep.

Her dreams were plagued with visions of blood drenched carpeting and burned walls, a clawed hand running across the door and leaving its mark behind. The terrified screams of a mother trying to save her child and the useless firing of gunshots. Miranda stirred, mumbling slightly as she rolled over, pinching the bridge of her nose, attempting to push such thoughts out of her mind. She awoke again when she heard rustling and shouting from Peter's room.

"Miranda!" his panic voiced yelled.

Quickly, she made the short trip down the hall and shoved the door open.

"Peter!"

He was standing at the window with his back to her with a cricket bat in his hand, his frightened eyes wide in the moon light. He held up his other hand to still her.

"Pete, are you all right?" she asked, taking a cautious step into the room.

"I heard something," he whispered, "I thought he was here." Peter breathed what appeared to be a sigh of relief, dropped the bat and ran his hands through his hair. "Where were you?" he asked, looking genuinely confused as he took a seat on the bed and removed his other shoe and stripped down to his shorts and t-shirt.

"Couch."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't want to wake you," she continued, "that and you were a little pissy," she grimaced, deciding that she didn't want to be on the couch any more than he wanted her to be; she sat beside him on the bed.

"Well—I'm pissy quite often, come to think of it," he scoffed. "But you were right, Randi, I'd rather not go back in there."

"I know," she smiled softly; "I didn't mean to snap at you, Peter."

"I know," he said running a hand down her back. "We should get back to bed."

Miranda made her own quick change into a tank top and some shorts and crawled into bed beside Peter, his presence beside her had already began to grow so familiar, so safe. She automatically curled into his side and his arm slid around her back.

"Randi?" he questioned softly

"Hmm?" she hummed in reply, already drifting off to sleep.

"Do you remember your mum, what happened to her?"

Miranda's body stretched and relaxed again against his and she took a deep breath. "She used to sing to me," she yawned.

"What happened," Peter asked again.

The only reply he received was in the form of her steady breathing and soft snores.

* * *

><p>The sun blaring through the window shone through her eyes, rousing her from her sleep. Miranda stretched her arms above her head and then out to the side only to find emptiness. She glanced at the clock on the night stand, 11:30. She blinked a few times to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her, surprised that he had actually went ahead and went without her.<p>

"Peter," she called out just in case he was there, poking her head into other various rooms of the flat. Nope, nothing, she was all alone; and while this is what she wanted she suddenly felt a little ill at the thought of being there all by herself.

"Oh, suck it up, Randi," she scolded herself, "might as well get down to business." She found a mop bucket and various cleaning supplies in the kitchen, a pair of rubber gloves under the sink, gathered her hair up in a messy ponytail and headed back down that god awful long walk to his parent's bedroom. She didn't think it was possible but the smell had gotten worse and the mixture of cleaning supplies was not helping. She found a towel to tie around her face, but still the stench came through. It was all she could do to not gag; the only thing that got her through it was knowing that she couldn't let Peter do it himself, not without him going completely insane. She gathered what was left of his family photos, blood stained and all and placed them in a new box that would find a new home eventually; she didn't have it in her to get rid of them.

Ruined or not they were still cherished memories that he would want soon or a later.

Between the two gallons of bleach she had to work with and all the elbow grease one could possibly have, the walls were, to her surprise, coming clean…somewhat. There was still the matter of the holes, and the claw marks, but once the big things were taken care of she was sure a few books could teach them how to patch a few holes. The carpet was another matter. What wasn't stained with bleach was now soaked colors of pinks and browns and she had to pry open the window to let some fresh air in and let some of the god awful air out. It would have to come up; there was no doubt about that, once she got the bed out, maybe she could get him to help her pull up the carpet. What a mess she had gotten herself into. She removed her shoes and left them behind as she carried the bucket of now pink cleaning solution down the hall and into the bathroom.

"Fucking hell," Peter's voice startled her from behind. She turned to see him staggering in the doorway, arms full of books and looking generally disorientated.

"Are you drunk," she grilled through narrowed eyes, carefully setting the bucket down on the tiled floor inside the bathroom.

Peter wobbled into the room, nearly falling over and dropped the books onto the couch.

"Christ, you look like a mess," she uttered rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Says the girl who looks like she was attacked by pink crayons and reeks of disinfectant," he retorted, exaggerating the last 't' just before he collapsed down beside the pile of books.

"Says the boy who looks like he just stumbled out of the dustbin," she scoffed.

"Real mature Miranda," he mumbled, "besides, I have it on good authority that you fancy said boy," Peter grinned.

"I need a shower," she complained, "I don't know what was worse, that room or you."

"Hee hee," he giggled, rolling his head back on the couch, "I guess we'll know soon enough, I'll still be here when you come out."

"Shut it Peter!" she yelled from behind the door, dumping the pail into the tub and watching the pink liquid swirl around the drain.

* * *

><p>The steady beating of the hot water felt good against her back, even if the mixture of blood was horribly depressing to watch as it left the tub. It was everywhere; in her hair, under her nails, between all the cracks in her skin, it even felt like it was in the folds of her ears. She scrubbed herself until the room was overfilled with steam and it began to billow out under the door. Miranda was satisfied that whatever she didn't wash off certainly got burned away with all that water. Wrapping a towel around her body and one around her head she poked her head out of the bathroom and sure enough he was still right there on the couch, eyeing her like a piece of candy.<p>

"Your face looks like a tomato," he grinned.

Miranda rolled her eyes, sitting on a chair across from him. "What's with all the books, Pete? The school let you take that many out at one time?"

"Didn't go," he replied flatly.

"Didn't go?"

"Nope," he said smugly, popping the 'p', "had better things to do."

"Oh, I see," she nodded, "like spending the day getting drunk!" She stood up from the chair and stormed off to the bed room, ruffling the towel that was on her head before tossing it in the corner. Peter followed close behind, picking up one of the books from the couch.

"Research Randi, research," he said waving the book at her while she dug in her bag for some fresh clothes. "Do you have any idea how many hours I spent looking through endless books and other literature," he went on as she moved around him and back into the bathroom to get dressed. "And then there it was, after so long, I finally found it."

"Found what Peter," she sighed; finally taking the book he had been shoving at her and began flipping through the pages as she began to walk back into the living room.

"Here" Peter reached around her and turned the pages until he found one that was marked with a small dog ear, than he reached into his pocket and pulled out the same crumpled piece of paper he showed her the night he showed up at her house, the one the monster left behind. "It's the same, Randi, exactly the fucking bloody same," he scoffed, running a hand through his hair.

Miranda took her time comparing the two, then skimming the remainder of the book. It was filled with various symbols and other etchings and all kinds of other creatures; its pages well past their prime.

"Peter, this book is at least a hundred years old," she whispered in amazement.

"I know," he laughed, "and I found the bloody bastard, or at least I found where he came from." Peter wandered off into the kitchen and poured himself another drink before rummaging through the cupboards for something to snack on.

Miranda snapped the book shut, sealing the paper inside and dropped the book on the end table. "This isn't exactly a good thing Peter," she sighed coming up behind him and leaning on the door frame.

"And why the fuck not?" he asked swallowing down the green liquid in his tumbler, swirling around the remaining ice cubes.

"The one he left…it came from a book too," she began slowly.

"What of it?"

"Maybe your parents found it in a book, and now they're dead, Peter."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Bum dum dummmm hey look its your first cliffie...well sort of. Not really a cliffie I suppose, but more of a teaser but hey, at least it was a nice and long chapter for you, or longer anyway. I'll try to make them longer, they usually are for everything else but I don't know what happens here, I go into short chapter mode I suppose. Don't forget to hit that beautiful blue button on your way out! it makes me super happy! I love knowing that people out there actually are still reading Fright Night fic. Then again with all that Peter hotness...well yea...just hit the button please :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Attin-lay**

Of all the alcohol that was available in the world, why he chose midori she had no clue. Maybe it was the color; he liked everything with a little bit of color. Miranda picked up the discarded tumbler on the counter, mostly watered down now, gave it a swish, and gulped it down. She winced, and chased it with a glass of water. Well, it sure as hell wasn't for the taste, the shit tasted like pure piss mixed with cantaloupe juice.

Peter had already passed out, it only took him moments to fall asleep after she shooed him into bed and forced him to lie down. She went back in to check on him; he would murmur every so often, shake his head and make a small groan. Miranda frowned, she missed her Peter. That doe eyed mischievous boy with a big soft side that used to parade her around town. He fussed again, it almost looked painful this time, with his eyes pinched shut and his hands balled up in the sheets. She brushed a tuft of hair from his forehead and pressed a kiss to his temple. He sighed and stilled beneath her touch, his face and body relaxing as the minutes ticked by.

He didn't deserve this; to be tortured every night only to wake up here where it all began. No, he didn't deserve that all.

Miranda sighed and ran a hand through her thick tousled hair, "Goodnight Peter," she whispered, dropping another tender kiss on his head. She turned to the night stand and grabbed his flashlight, tiptoed out of the room, and quietly shut the door behind her.

She picked up the leather bound book and turned it over in her hands, running her fingers along the embossed black lettering on the cover.

_Filii Noctis. _Miranda cocked her head to the side. "Latin…nice," she scoffed, glancing around for a pad of paper and a pen. Her father insisted that she studied a foreign language. So foreign that it was dead. God forbid she had taken Spanish, of French, or hell even German; nope, Christopher Chapman wanted his little girl to be able to impress when she grew up. Miranda just wanted to pass with an acceptable grade.

She slumped behind the couch and with the flash light between her teeth she flipped open the book to the page that Peter had marked. She took a closer look at the picture. Some sort of winged creature sitting on a scroll, crown upon its head with a different crest on each side, some sort of marking over its eyes and mouth. There was a small script in the corner. _Domus de Damiri. Enatus Mare Nostrum. _

"Okay," she mumbled, scribbling down the English. "House of Damiri, easy enough…something…our sea…our sea, that makes no sense." Miranda rubbed her forehead and let her eyes scan the previous page. "_servabit hostia eius vivens in diebus multis,_ will keep victim alive for many days." She scribbled down, "Well, that's unfortunate," she grimaced, deciding that it was a good thing that Peter's parents had went quick. She continued to scanning the page, and then the book, picking out key word and phrases she could figure out and jotting them down. According to this particular book there were a handful of breeds of vampires, and endless clans, or houses that belonged to each one. And she was supposed to believe that these things were just walking around fitting in with the rest of us…yea…that wasn't going to help her sleep at night. Each one of them was designed to seduce in their own way, to make it easier on the victim. Some fed only on animals, some actually felt some type of connection to their human and only drank if it was offered up in donation, then there were those who did the whole old school bat thing; and then there was the ones Peter had went and got involved with.

Miranda had stopped writing five terribly written pages ago, and was now just staring at the pages before her. Flashlight still between her teeth as she tapped the pen along the side of her leg, shaking her head as she read one horrid thing after the next.

The creak of the door fell on deaf ears as she kept jotting down notes, it wasn't until the overhead lamp clicked on that her breath caught in her throat and the pen fell from her fingertips as she slowly turned her eyes up. Peter was standing there in a pair of pajama pants; rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Miranda?" His voice cracked when he said her name. "Fucking hell, its half past four in the morning."

Her mouth hung slightly open for a moment before she licked her lips and gave a questioning shrug and went back to nosing through the book.

"Is that my torch? And why are you behind the couch? Table wasn't good enough? Is that that book, the one you told me not to mess with? So glad you play by the rules."

She shot him a look but didn't reply.

Peter sighed and took a seat beside her, rolling his head against the wall to face her. "Randi, look, maybe the drinking wasn't a good idea, but I just needed something, something to wash it all away."

Miranda closed the book and let it drop to the floor with a soft _thud_. She ran her hand down the length of his face, a glum smile on her face, "Peter," she sighed.

He leaned into her touch and blinked slowly, fixating his dark eyes on her matching ones. His full of pain and suffering, hers full of compassion and remorse.

"I'd give anything to wave a magic wand and make this all disappear, _anything,_" she pushed up to her knees and pressed a kiss to his cool cheek. "But I can't, and neither can you and neither can anyone or anything else. All you can do is remember them and move on."

Peter gave her a small smile, "What about the book?" he asked casually.

She shook her head, "Peter forget the damn book! It's in Latin anyway, and not pig." Miranda stood from the floor, taking the book with her as well as the notes she had been working on. There was no point in sharing those just yet.

Peter hopped up and crossed her path; he could be a quick little thing when he wanted too. "Don't play coy with me, Miranda Cooper," He blocked her several attempts to dodge around him with ease, catching her wrist to steady her when she almost lost her footing. "I'm not half as daft as people seem to think." His tone was much firmer now, demanding even. "I also know you flew by two years of advanced Latin here, are in the middle of your third," he inched his face closer to hers and cocked his head to the side. "I think it's safe to assume you started abroad and are _quite_ handy in written word." Peter gestured to the notepad in her grip.

Miranda exhaled, "it's not nice Peter."

"Didn't expect it to be, Miranda."

She shook her head, running a hand through her hair before taking a moment to rub her temples. "And don't down yourself, Pete. You're smart, cute, and one helluva a good guy; who has regrettably come into some shitty times." She let out a halfhearted laugh and gave him a sideways smile.

"So…cute-" he declared, waggling his eyebrows.

"And cocky." She assured him with a nod, swatting him in the shoulder with the notepad. Of course she thought he was cute, despite being almost a year younger he had always towered over her, his floppy hair was always either in his face or a wretched mess. She had always teased him about how thin he was, that he would be the one wearing his girlfriend's shirts to bed, they would just be a little short. But she liked that too; she could wrap herself around him as easily as he could wrap himself around her. Perhaps when this was over they could explore other options, she would hate to ruin their friendship, but there was no denying the mutual attraction. Well…Peter, albeit unsuccessful, had a thing for anything with girl parts.

"Couch," she demanded, tapping him again with her notes. "I'll tell you what I know."

"Bed," he countered, "And I can show you," he said with a whisper, taking a step closer and resting his hands on her hips, his thumbs tracing the line above the hem of her shorts. Miranda felt both the book and pad fall from her hands as she automatically rested her palms on his chest; his skin was always so warm. Peter's hands had found their way to her back and slowly pulled her closer, his fingers trailing up the back of her shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a firm step back.

"What is it a switch with you?" she laughed.

Peter sighed and hung his head, looking back up with her with a grin, "I've been often told it's the age," he said with a shrug.

"Your fault, with all that ego stroking you were doing."

"Yea, well that's all the stroking you'll be getting," she scoffed. "Now come sit, behave, and we can go over these notes."

Peter poured them both a cup of tea as Miranda flipped through the pages and pointed out phrases comparing them to her notes. She told him the basics, that she had learned that the thing he had found pinned to the wall had been some sort of house crest, and the many, many, breeds that branched out into clans and then boiled down into individual houses.

"But this I don't understand," she tapped her fingers on the words on the yellowed page. "Enatus Mare Nostrum, something about _our sea, _Mare Nostrum." She put her down on the kitchen table. "I have no clue, it makes no sense."

Peter scoffed from across from her, "Seriously, Miranda, you're supposed to be better than this than me."

She picked up her head and shot him a look. It was now well past 6 in the morning, the sun was starting to creep into the windows and both of them were well past the point of tired. "I'm sorry what."

"We shared that same miserable history class, hell we studied for exams together."

Miranda buried her face in the crook of her elbow, grinding her teeth together. "Peter, I'd appreciate it if you would just spit it out already," she groaned.

"Right then," he coughed. "Mare Nostrum is what the Romans referred to what is now known as the Mediterranean Sea."

"Habitat sub terra, Peter, lives underground. Not in the freaking sea!" She shoved herself away from the table, her chair teetering on its legs threating to tip as she pushed it away and marched to the sink to dump the contents of her cup; which had long gone cold. She gripped the counter top and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm just tired." She turned back to see Peter staring at her with a smirk on his face.

"It doesn't have to be the sea, per say, Randi; it could be the Mediterranean as a whole. You know, Morocco, Greece, Italy, Spain, France, Egypt, Turkey-"

"I'm an idiot," Miranda muttered, passing a hand over her face.

"You're not, Miranda," Peter replied solemnly, "you're amazing, really."

She wet her face with a damp washcloth and sat back down, beside him rather than across from him. "Okay, moving on." Reached over and placed a hand over his, "Look Peter, it says that he keeps them alive for days, usually ending in them turning. I don't know why your parents went so quickly but I think it's better, for them, that they did."

Peter's eyes glazed at the mention of his parent's demise and she squeezed his hand gently. She let the silence hang in the air, wondering if she should tell him anymore or just let it be. He might have put on a big tough front, but deep down she knew he was still a scared boy; after all he had every right to be. Tears were already pooling in the corners of his wide brown eyes. She would let it rest for now, save it for another time. She stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing his head to her chest.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

Peter sniffed and nodded against her, tears already sinking into her shirt and dampening her skin. Miranda released his body and he stood to face her; the rims of his eyes red and his cheeks wet. She wiped the corners of his eyes with her thumbs and then stood on tiptoe, bringing his face down to meet hers and gently pressed a kiss to his lips. Peter inhaled sharply, before melting into her. She smiled against him and pulled away.

"One day, Peter, one day, everything will be okay. You'll be up and on your feet, successful, plenty of girls by your side. You'll never forget, but you will be okay."

Peter pulled her to him, her head just tall enough so he could tuck her under his chin. "Just you Randi, that's all I need." He breathed her in as he rubbed circles in her back and she nuzzled his chest. "I meant it you know, you really are amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself, Peter."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So we are slowly getting to that point, to where we make that future jump to movie time. It's going to be kinda sad, not going to lie, think I'm going to try to tie that part up in the next two or three chapters. We need adult Peter and Miranda; I've been doing lots of head writing, sassy banter, a nice apartment fluff moment, some tellng off. Good stuff. Yea, I really want them to get to that point...soon. I'd apologize for lack of updating but yeah...we all know how I am about that. I start getting med injections soon, I'll let you know how that goes :p Until then, don't foget to leave me something in that beautiful box down there won't you please. I'll leave you yummy cookies. Tennant flavored cookies.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Cleanup**

Despite the fact that the sun had already begun to rise when they went to bed, Miranda still found herself awake after only a few hours of sleep; the bedside clock read 11:30. Peter was still sleeping somewhat soundly beside her, every so often he would stir or cry out and she would run a hand down his back until he was calm again. She would miss their odd form of domesticity when she went back home, sure his company would always be there, but she had grown to crave having a warm body by her side at night, even if it was one she had to soothe back to sleep on a regular basis. She gave his back a final pat and flipped back the covers, scanning the floor for some already dingy clothes to work in. That room needed to be finished. She pulled on a pair of jeans and one of Peter's old shirts, it was a little tight but it would do. Miranda made up a new bucket of god awful smelling bleach water, grabbed a scrub-brush and made her way to the end of the hall.

It still held the scent of death. Granted it wasn't as strong as it once was, but it still lingered and mixed with the bleach the stench overall was enough to make an onion's eyes water. She had went out the day before and managed to find some painter's masks and that helped somewhat, she still had to pry open the windows and stick her head out to breathe every fifteen minutes so she wouldn't pass out. At some point she managed to get bleach in her eyes, ripped her jeans on the mangled bed frame, her clothes were covered in large patches of white; but by quarter to five the room looked almost normal. She managed to break down the bed frame and stack it in the corner and had leaned the bed against it, the walls would still need a good patching and fresh paint and new carpet was inevitable but the room itself no longer looked like a crime scene. The door slid across the carpet revealing a disheveled Peter snacking on a handful of cheerios.

"You should wear my shirts more often," he smirked popping an o into his mouth.

Miranda wiped the sweat from her forehead and leaned against the windowsill, arching an eyebrow in question.

"Seriously." He held up his hands and motioned outward in front of his chest and mouthed "_huge"_ with a grin plastered on his face.

She chuckled in disbelief and shook her head. "Peter, I swear to god, if I weren't covered in bleach-"

"Like mega huge," he went on, "gargantuan even, looks nice on you Cooper."

Miranda was about to give a witty comeback of her own when Peter stepped into the room. It was the first time since the first time they had been there and that didn't go so well. She closed her mouth and watched him tentatively. He paced the floor, walking in a small circle examining the walls and carpeting.

"You see, Miranda, amazing," he declared softly with a small smile. He padded over to her, his chocolate colored eyes scanning hers a moment before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, so much," he whispered, his hand now cupping her cheek as he brought his forehead down to rest on hers.

"Well, it's far from done, Peter. You'll need to find some sort of contractor, the walls need work-"

"So call one, my parents had credit cards," he breathed.

"And what about-"

Peter silenced her mouth with his own, the pressure of his lips firm but tender. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she let him in, he tasted sweet and her fingers fisted in his hair when he nipped her bottom lip.

"Peter I'm covered in bleach," she shuddered while he moved down to her neck.

"So I've heard."

He returned to her mouth and let his hands travel to her hips, backing her onto the windowsill pressing into her and she moaned into his mouth. His hands slipped under her shirt and unhooked her bra; Miranda placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed back.

"Wait."

Peter blinked, "Wait? I have been waiting,"

"Peter," she giggled.

He shook his head, taking her hands in his and kissing the finger tips. "You really don't get it do you?"

It was Miranda's turn to blink now as she watched Peters struggle to find his words.

"It's you Randi. There is no switch, while I'm sure hormones have a large play in this game, it's all you. I'm crazy about you Miranda, ever since that day you made me play tourist. It'll always be you. And while this really sucks right now, there is absolutely no one I would rather be by my side."

She smiled at him through tear threatened eyes and pulled his face to hers, kissing him long and slow.

"I'm going to take a shower-"

"Company?"

"No," she laughed, "then I'm going home to see my dad. I at least need to stop by and say hello."

"You're coming back right," he asked suddenly, fear flashing in his eyes.

"Yes, I'm coming back," she assured him running a hand down the length of his arm. "And whatever this is," she motioned between them, "we'll talk about that too."

* * *

><p>Miranda had almost hoped that her dad wouldn't be home; she would just leave him a nice heartfelt note on the fridge, grab a few more clothes and be on her way; so naturally her actions came to a halt when she saw his truck sitting in the driveway. She hated lying to her father; they had had a tough enough relationship with him being away all the time. Chris had tried to hire a nanny to look after her but she only drove them away after a few days. "I'm too old for a damned nanny!" she would shout as he argued that he only did it so she would have some sort of company during the day. Miranda would have rather been alone anyway. Nobody could have replaced her mother, and she wasn't that great at making new friends so she had always sought some sort of comfort in her own solitude.<p>

Until Peter. Everything happened so easily with Peter, and now his world was being torn apart and where was she; sitting in her driveway, afraid of what _daddy might say_. The thought made her feel so incredibly selfish. Miranda swallowed her pride and slowly ascended the steps to her front door, taking a deep breath as she turned the knob.

Her dad was snoring in the recliner in front of the TV, he always fell asleep during the news, hell who didn't, their local anchor man was well into his sixties and had the world's most monotonous voice. Miranda reached for the remote when the image of Peter's parents flashed on the screen following a missing persons report.

"Shit," she murmured. Of course she knew people would notice eventually, she just figured they would have time to figure something out.

"James Carlisle, a lawyer for the well-known law firm Vincent and associates was last seen with his wife Lidia were last seen almost two weeks ago leaving a bookshop near Paddington. Their son, Peter Carlisle has been seen attending regular classes at Dunebridge academy-" The screen showed a shot of Peter and herself standing in the school courtyard from a distance.

"-The couple was reported missing my Lidia Carlisle's sister when she failed to make their weekly visit and could not reach them for the following week, which she reported was highly unusual for her sister-"

"Miranda?" Christopher's voice scratched from his chair. She quickly hit the power button and spun around with a smile glued to her face.

"Hi daddy."

"So are you still my little girl, or do I have to murder an underage kid in the near future," he grumbled while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Dad," she scoffed shaking her head, "You like Peter. Remember?"

"There's a fine line between like and trust, Miranda." He narrowed his eyes at her and held his gaze as if he were waiting for her to confess some sort of god awful teenage lustful crime. "You look well enough."

"I'm fine," she insisted, "you don't have to trust him, I do." She went to the kitchen and brought him back a beer, popping the tab before she took a seat on the couch. "So, with that said-"

Her father sipped his beer and eyed her carefully.

"I'm going to need a few more days," she rushed out in one breath, biting her bottom lip and nervously bouncing her knees.

Christopher set down the can and leaned forward with a sigh, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Randi…does this have anything to do with what has been on the news?"

"T-th-the news?" she stammered. He was totally zoned out when she got home, there was no faking that.

"Yeah, It ran at noon today."

Miranda sat in silence staring at her father with glazed eyes not sure of what to say. She sure as hell couldn't tell him the truth, she didn't want to lie either, he always knew when she was lying anyhow.

"Look Randi, you have to know someone will try to come and talk to him sooner rather than later. Why it hasn't happened already I don't know. Do you know where they are?"

She shook her head.

"Does Peter?"

She opened her mouth, instead of speaking she opted to take a breath and said nothing.

"Does Peter?" Christopher repeated with more authority behind his voice.

"In a manner of speaking," Miranda answered sheepishly, looking to the window for some sort of escape.

"Miranda, I don't think that boy would pull the wings off a fly, but if he did something-"

"NO!" she cut in, moving closer to him and grabbing his hands. "No. Dad look," she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Peter is in a real bad spot right now, he's my friend, and he needs me. I can't tell you why, not now, maybe later, but not now. You don't have to trust him, just trust me. Please."

Christopher squeezed her hands, leaned over and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "There is so much of your mother in you, Miranda," he said with a remorseful smile. "Don't go to school, the less people see of him the better-"

Miranda's eyes widened in shock and she felt the corners of her lips pull up. She never thought in a million years her father would agree if he knew any inkling of what was going on. Perhaps he felt as if this was some sort of way to make up for all the time he had spent away.

"-doors, windows, keep them all shaded and shut. If you need something you call me and I'll have it taken care of."

"I have a contractor coming tomorrow," Miranda said quietly.

"What for?"

She shrugged her shoulders and scrunched up one side of her face.

"Nevermind…here," he pulled out a credit card and handed it to her. "Nothing goes in their name, do you understand me. That will only make it worse for him. Use it for whatever…within reason, it was for you anyway, something your mother and I set up for when you turned eighteen."

"Daddy, why are you doing this?" She brushed away a tear threatening the corner of her eye.

"You're my little girl, Randi. I _do trust you_. That boy has been your world for the better part of three years, and unfortunately a good part of mine, I don't want that taken away from you. "Christopher pulled his daughter in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. "But that doesn't mean that if he hurts you that I'm not going to give him hell."

"Thank you, Daddy." Miranda smiled up at him through wet eyes.

"You bet pun'kin. And be careful."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, I have nothing to say to you today, to tired. Just leave me some love in that box okay? Okay.**

**Shelly**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm going to give you a song here. Pink's Just give me a reason. Play and repeat. It fits well here and I think with them overall. I'm making it their theme.**

* * *

><p><strong>Wounds<strong>

Miranda was met at the duplex door by Mr. Drindage. Short, round, well into his seventies and had always been kind to her when she came to visit Peter and his parents. His shirt was tucked into the top of his pants, and his suspenders did nothing but accent his stout form.

"Evening, Miranda dear."

"Hi, Mr. Drindage, how are you," she greeted him with a polite smile.

"Oh I'm quite fine thank you." He smiled and gave her a small nod. "I don't mean to pry my dear, but Constable Phillips with the police department was here not but two hours ago, shame you missed him, that poor boy upstairs is a complete wreck."

"The police were here?!" Miranda coughed raising her eyebrows. "Where is Peter?"

"The Missus and I tried to go check on him, but all we got was a string of curses and what sounded like broken glass. He's still in there, been standing guard." The old man gave an affirmed nod and tapped his cane on the pavement. "Don't want nothing to happen to the lad."

"Well thank you, for that. And sorry about the…language…and whatnot," she apologized squishing up her face as she slipped inside the door. "And feel free to go back inside Mr. Drindage, he'll be okay, I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"To err is human dear, but perhaps I will step inside, it is getting a bit chilly. I will keep an ear out though, just in case."

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Miranda," he smiled, tipping his head to her once more before waddling to his own door.

* * *

><p>If she didn't know any better she would have sworn nobody was there. All the lights were off and it was so quiet when she opened the door.<p>

"Peter!" Miranda called as she pushed on the door, pieces of glass slid across the green tinted carpet and crunched under her sneakers. "Damnit, Peter," she swore to herself attempting to step around the wreckage.

"Ah, there she is the amazing Miranda," she heard his voice lull from somewhere behind the couch. "Tell me amazing Miranda, where were you when the fucking hobbie bobbies were grilling me about my parents. Not here, nope," he ground out popping the p.

She followed his voice around the couch and found him lying on his back, a half empty bottle of rum in one hand and blood seeping out of the other into the carpet.

"Oh my god, Peter," she gasped, turning on her heels to get some towels from the kitchen, a bottle of alcohol that he wouldn't ingest and a bowl of warm water. Miranda knelt down by his side and gently placed his hand in the bowl, gaining a hiss from an angry Peter in return.

"What the hell happened?"

"My parents were fucking killed by a monster, Randi, can't very well tell that to the police now can I. Lucky for me I caught the news before they got here," he rolled his towards her, his brown eyes glassy and dull, beads of sweat clung to his hair line. "You're gonna be a star," he whispered. "Crazy Peter Carlisle's mystery friend," he attempted to flash a grin.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Your hand Peter, what happened to your hand?"

"Glass is sharp and my neighbours are nosy," he replied flatly.

"Christ, Peter," she sighed, removing his hand and dabbing around the cut. Luckily it wasn't that deep, just spread along the length of his palm and still bleeding. She patted the area around it dry and proceeded to pour the alcohol over it.

"Fuck!" He jerked back his hand and held it to his chest. "That fucking hurt!"

"Yeah well, should have thought about that before you threw the damn bottle and then managed to cut yourself with it," she scolded. "Now give it here."

Peter blew out a puff of air and reluctantly held out his hand and she poured a second round of alcohol over it. He swore again, but let her keep hold of his hand this time.

"It'll need to be wrapped," he grumbled, "There's some bandages under the sink in hallway toilet."

"Well that's more like it," she said with a smug smile. "Be right back."

She grabbed some ointment while she was at it and gently smeared it across the gash, careful not to put any direct pressure on it. She made several passes with the gauze and secured it with some medical tape. She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to the back of his knuckles, "Right as rain."

Peter sighed and used his other hand to push himself up onto his elbow, pivoted his body and collapsed with his head in her lap. "I'm so fucked up, Randi," his muffled voice said from her lap. "Why are you still here? A normal person would have run out on me long ago."

She idly ran her fingers through his hair. "There are far worse people out there than you, Pete. And you're my friend, friends don't turn their backs on each other, no matter how shitty the circumstances."

He rolled over to face her, his chocolate eyes still glossy and now a little red, and she thought he was even starting to look older; not in a bad way. "I told them my Aunt Molly was a nutter, that my parents were off on holiday in Romania, that mom must have forgotten about their lunch or whatever." Peter's voice trailed off and his eyes slipped closed as his good hand came up to massage his temple. "I have a feeling they won't buy that for long."

"So what? You were upset you came up with a lame story? That's no reason to get trashed, Peter," she laughed, brushing the hair from his eyes.

"No, it's not," he uttered coldly, moving from her lap and stumbling into the kitchen.

"Peter?" she called after him, only to be answered by rustling papers and chairs being moved across the linoleum. Miranda stood from the floor and met him halfway in the living room with a scribbled notepad dangling from his hand. "Peter-" she took a step forward and tried to take the pad from him. He recoiled, took a step back and harshly laughed.

"Now this, this, Miranda, is one big fat fucking reason right here!" He smacked the paper against the wall and she gave a little jump. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Peter, I…It wasn't the right time," she argued.

"THERE IS NO FUCKING RIGHT TIME, MIRANDA. DON'T YOU GET THAT!? That bastard is going to hunt me down; it could be tonight, tomorrow, in twenty years, I think I have the right to fucking know!" Peter shouted, throwing the notebook across the room where it landed somewhere with a _thud_.

"It said _in most cases_ they will finish off the family, not all." Miranda braved another step towards him, her hands held up in surrender. He made no point to move so she kept moving until she was arms distance from him.

"Yeah, well, he pretty much told me he'd be back already. Thought it a scare tactic to keep my trap shut." Peter ran a hand through his hair and then across his face before letting it falls with a slap on his leg. "Guess not."

"Peter," Miranda sighed running her hand down his arm. He looked down at her for a moment, holding her gaze, the anger that had been there gone and now replaced with something else. Regret? Worry? Maybe even a hint of apologetic. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"I have to go," he said with a sad smile.

"Go?" She shook her head in confusion.

"Yeah, go." Peter attempted to step away from her and she stopped him by placing both her hands on his chest.

"What do you mean go? Peter, you can't just leave!"

He placed his hands over hers. "I have to, Randi, don't you see, the further away for me the better. It's the only chance I have to survive." He lowered his hands and went to his room to grab a duffle; leaving her standing there with a gaping mouth and pooling eyes.

Miranda did her best to compose herself and follow after him.

"But where, you're really just going to leave, just like that?" Her eyes scanned the room trying to focus on anything but him and she was chewing feverishly on her bottom lip.

"Hop a train, start somewhere new. Best thing I can think to do at the moment," he rambled on while stuffing his bag and going back into the living room.

She didn't have a second thought about it; she said she would see it through to the end, so she would. Consequences be damned. She grabbed her own bag and shoved her own clothes in.

"Stop." Peter's hand closed over hers when she set her bag on the couch and she glanced up to be met with large sad eyes. "Miranda stop," he repeated again in a whisper.

"I'm coming with you, Peter," she argued, trying to unsuccessfully tug out of his grip.

"You can't. He's after me, not you. I'm not risking that. I can't."

"Well-"she tugged, "I-am." She pulled loose and collapsed on the floor, reduced to a crying mess.

Peter closed his eyes and sighed, holding out his hands to help her up and pulled her tightly to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Randi. Besides your father would kill me, and that scares me more than that bloody vampire."

She chuckled between her sobs. "I'm going to miss you, Peter."

He pulled back slightly, heartbroken by the tears streaming down her face, tears spilt for him. "Hey you'll see me again, I'm going to get this bastard and then I'll come back and it'll be like I never left."

"Not if I get him first," she sniffed.

"You- stay out of it," he commanded.

"Take this." She handed him the credit card her father gave her.

"Randi-" he objected, trying to hand it back.

"No, take it. You can't use your parent's cards, Peter. It'll look bad on your part. You'll probably have a good week or so before my dad gets pissed and cancels it."

Peter gave her that sad smile once more and cupped her face in his hands, wiping away what tears he could with his thumbs. "I love you, Miranda Cooper." He lowered his lips onto hers in a soft kiss. "Wholly and completely. Remember that. Always. The one thing that will never change about me is how I feel about you." He gently kissed her lips again, and then her cheek and finally her forehead, breathing her in as a tear trekked down his cheek. He gave her a squeeze, kissing the top of her head once more before pulling away; keeping his eyes locked with hers.

"Right, I should go," he whispered.

She nodded and wiped away his stray tear letting her hand fall down his chest.

"Okay," he breathed, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Miranda collapsed onto the couch, holding her head in her hands as she wept openly. The best thing that had happened to her had just walked out of her life, just like her mother. She wiped her face and glanced towards the hallway and noticed the notebook lying on the floor. "Shit!" she swore to herself, scampering over to it scooping it up and then dashing back to the living room to grab the book and pull on her coat.

* * *

><p>She ran down the stairs two at a time, skidded around the corner and began to run to the train station. She knew he'd be on foot; after all, it was only a few blocks away. She hopped the railing and was hollered at by several security officers. She glanced back to see them pushing their way through the crowd. She stood on tiptoe, barely spotting his mousey features and messy brown hair from a distance.<p>

"Peter!" she shouted jumping up and down waving the notebook above her head. She saw him turn and for a moment his eyes met hers in confusion and sadness and then turned away.

"Peter wait!" she tried again, pushing through muttering apologies as she bumped into other people waiting in line. She reached him as he was about to board and quickly grabbed onto the arm of his coat.

"Miranda what-?

"Here-" she breathed, shoving the notebook in his hands, attempting to catch her breath.

Peter shook his head and laughed. "The amazing Miranda," he grinned.

"That's me," she smiled. She sucked in her bottom lip before launching arms around his neck. "You best call, understand? Call, write, do something, Peter, because I do not want to fucking lose you!"

"Oooh potty mouth. I like it," he teased into her ear.

She loosened her hold and pulled him down to her by the lapels of his coat, crashing her lips into his, eager to get one last taste of his sweetness before he was gone forever. She knew he wouldn't call. He might once or twice to make her feel better, but he wouldn't risk it after that. He held her tightly, one hand deep in her dark curls. Her heart was overflowing with love and breaking all at the same time; and everything hurt.

Reluctantly she had to pull away, both of their faces damp with each other's tears. "I love you, Peter, so much."

Peter nodded and the train whistle blew. He took her hand as he stepped on board, pressing a final kiss to the back of it and not letting go until it was impossible for either of them to reach any further.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Did you need a hankie? I did. Then again I run a little on the depresses side so...yeah... We'll be moving right along now. YAY FOR TENNANT PETER. Not that mousy Peter wasn't adorably loveable, but hot Peter is most definitely hot! Anyway, hope you enjoyed despite all the boohoo-ness. Leave me some love in that box. Miranda and Peter could really use some love, they are feeling kind of crappy right now.**

**-Shelly**


	12. Chapter 12

**Showmanship**

**Romania 2011**

It was the little towns where she got most of her business, and she felt bad about it, most of all in these parts they were more than likely feeding on sheep or maybe cows. This was not the usual human hunting grounds; but the towns people insisted they were taking people too. So here she was, sitting in the top of an abandoned silo, waiting.

She munched on a granola bar, tossing a piece to a scurrying mouse; her thoughts wondering about what dear old dad was up to. He had retired a few years back, moved to California to "find himself a nice hottie to settle down with," his words not hers. She chuckled at the memory, she could almost picture him drinking a beer and smoking a cigar with some twenty something stripper on his lap and then going home to watch TV land reruns. She missed the old man. She missed a lot of things about her old life, most of them too painful to dwell on.

Miranda's ears perked at a faint rustling in the underlying field and she took her position. She shook her head at the sight below, a man being dragged away from one of the nearby barns and a shady male figure checking to make sure the coast was clear. The boys were never easy, they were always so damn alluring, this one included. She grabbed her weapon of choice and slid down the ladder; one foot on either side of the rails. She waited until he was just outside the silo opening, and cocked her extremely large, extremely modified hand gun, stepping out into view.

"Now you and I both know this area is off limits," she said with a sly smile.

"Ah ha, you must be Cooper." He flashed that perfect smile. "You're famous you know. Known for being nice to those lame-o veggie types," he ran his tongue over his teeth exposing his fangs and inhaled deeply. "And you smell delicious."

"So I've been told, on all accounts," she smirked and bounced her eyebrows.

"I bet you taste good too," he purred licking his lips.

"Why don't you come find out," she offered, nibbling her bottom lip. What had she become, flirting with the enemy, it was disgusting.

The vampire scoffed and eyed his next victim. "Hypothetically, if I were to let him go, would I get to live?"

"Yeah…no…sorry, doesn't work that way. Gotta send your buddies a nasty message," she raised the weapon in her hand and gave it a little shake. "And there's only one way to do that. Tell you what though," she reached into her pants and pulled out a small vial of blood. His eyes grew black and he was in front of her in a flash.

"Not so fast big boy," she scolded pressing the gun into his chest.

"That's your blood," he sniffed.

"It is." She nodded.

"Why would you offer me a taste of _your_ blood?"

Miranda lowered her gun and took a small stainless steel blade from the inside of her belt and cut the top button from his shirt, slicing his chest. She slid her finger across his skin and licked the blood clean with a smile. "Because you are different. You don't want to be here, you don't hunt for the sake of hunger you hunt because you crave connection." She paused and inched closer to him. "And you like me."

He let out a shuddering breath.

"Granted more than you should. What's your name?"

"Dimitri," he whispered and brushed a curl of hair from her face and she promptly slapped his hand away.

"Tsk tsk tsk, you don't get to touch. Tooooo much connection." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a piece of folded up paper with an all too familiar crest on it. "What do you know about Damiri house?" she asked arching an eyebrow.

He held up his hands and backed away, "Keep your blood, shoot me now; I'm not getting involved in Damiri affairs."

"Oh Dimitri," she pouted "I only want a location, and you'll get to live, you'll get a little taste of me, but you'll have to leave this area alone, tell your whole clan to leave this area alone."

"I already fed from him, he'll be changed soon," Dimitri frowned.

Miranda wiggled her gun in the air again. "Villagers still need a show."

"America, there is only one left now, but you'll find him there. Building a new family. Not sure where exactly."

Miranda smiled and slipped the vial back into her pocket, turned to her back pack and pulled out a donor bag and tossed it to him. "Much appreciated," she grinned. "Don't enjoy that all at once."

She went over to the poor man lying in the grass and placed the barrel of the gun over his chest, gave the trigger a squeeze, shooting a stake into his middle and walked away. "Sorry buddy."

"Umm, you missed his heart," Dimitri smirked.

"Yep, you might want to get back in the silo." She gave his back a push and shut the door behind them just in time for the door to be splattered in remnants.

"Dear god," he muttered when she pulled back the door and bits of blood and guts were still raining down into the field. "What a shit way to go."

Miranda chuckled and gave his arm a pat, "I call it the Stake N Bake," she winked. "See ya!" she called over her shoulder as she sauntered away into the moonlight.

* * *

><p><strong>Vegas 2011<strong>

"No! No, no, no, no, no! Just fucking stop! Christ!" He drug his hand through his hair and ground his teeth muttering more obscenities. "Is it that fucking hard to have some mist on this bloody fucking stage? Not a thick, choking fog, how is anyone supposed to see what's happening with this dense shit all over the place?" he waved his arms in the air around him, clearing a spot in said fog. "Fucking armatures," he complained under his breath. He was on his way off stage when one of the younger stage hands approached him.

"Mr. Vincent?"

He turned to face the boy with narrowed black lined eyes.

"Um," the boy swallowed. "We're having problems with the wiring in the fire set ups around center stage."

"And what do I look like, kid? A fucking electrician? Fuck off."

The kid shook his head, or that might have just been a reaction of his body in general, and scampered away.

"Jesus Pete, you don't have to be so...you," his stage manager Tom smirked as he passed by. He liked Tom to a certain extent. They got on well…most days. He was a bit younger and Peter liked that, didn't make him feel as old as he was.

"Aww, and spoil this fabulous reputation I've worked so hard to uphold," he grinned. "Not a chance. I'm done here, calling it a night. Oh and get the damn fire working, yeah?"

Tom gave him a salute to which Peter rolled his eyes. "Just get it done."

* * *

><p>He didn't even wait until the elevator reached the penthouse floor before he began peeling off his façade. The god awful wig, the beard, the false piercings. On more than one occasion he had wanted to throw it all away, but he had worked hard to get here, and above all she was right. He was indeed successful, there were plenty of women (albeit none of them the one he wanted), but he was far from okay. He sat by the window, leg thrown over the arm of his chair watching the city below, swishing the ice in his tumbler. He glanced down at the scar on the inside of his palm, a thin white line that would throw any palm reader off their game. He smirked and let out a sigh, rolling his eyes around in his head. There hadn't been a day that passed he didn't think about her, he even made sure that the box office had a set of tickets put up for her every night, just in case.<p>

He never tracked down the thing that killed his parents, any information he dug up only made his impending doom look worse so he just kept running, hiding, surviving. It had worked so far, but he felt like nothing more than a failure.

Here he was, his name in lights, albeit a new name, and still a failure.

* * *

><p><strong>Romania<strong>

"Jobs done Anton, give me my money and I'll be on my way." Miranda shoved her duffle in the back seat of her car and turned to face the middle aged man approaching her from behind.

"Monies?" he replied, his accent thick and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, money. Bani, numerar, plată."

The man shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Wut monies?"

She cocked her hip just enough to expose the handle of the gun that was hidden by her coat. "Funny, you spoke beautiful English yesterday," she smirked.

"Ooohh, yes, yes that monies, I get, I get." He hurried into a nearby house and quickly returned with a wad of cash holding onto it when he placed it in her hands. "Monster is gone now, yes?"

"Yes, no more monster," she said with a smile and pulled hard on her end of the bills getting him to release them. "And spread the word, I'm leaving, find someone else to take care of your problems."

"Vhere are you going?" he asked with worry, suddenly looking very afraid.

"To take care of one of my own."

* * *

><p>She shuddered when she walked into her hotel room; she hated to think of the things that were living in here. But it was affordable, and a place to sleep until she could catch a flight out. She dug around in her bag for her phone and punched in her dad's number.<p>

"Randi," a tired voice answered after several rings. "Is everything alright?"

"Hey daddy," she smiled, god she missed him. "I'm fine. Hey look, I'm thinking about coming to stay for a while, what do you say. Got room for you long lost little girl."

She heard Christopher smirk on the other end. "Miranda, I don't think you've ever been lost, not a day in your life."

"Aww, glad you think so highly of me. But that's not an answer."

"Of course you can stay sweetheart. When should I expect you, a week? Maybe two?

"A few days," she said quickly, her hands tightening in the sheets. Here she was all grown up and her father still intimidated her.

"Okay, what's wrong? Something happen with that hush hush job of yours? Are you sure you're okay? I may be old, but damnit, Miranda I'll kick someone's ass if need be!"

"Dad! I'm fine! Just want a vacation that's all. Okay?"

"You're sure?" his tone ever so maternal.

"Yes daddy."

"Alright then, see you soon."

She hung up the phone and lightly laughed. He was always so damned protective, even now. There was a light tapping on her window her eyes flickered over to see a figure looming on her windowsill.

"Well this is new," she uttered, prying the window open and allowing him in. "What are you doing here Dimitri. We're done, I got what I wanted and you didn't blow up…Happy ending."

"What do you want with Damiri house?" He slinked into the room with ease backing himself against the wall. She was able to get a better look at him now. Dark medium length hair, nice build, lush green eyes when they had color.

"Why do you care?"

"You tasted me. You're kind don't do that, they can't, not without force or consequence." He took a step towards her but not too close, she liked that.

"Curiosity?" she smirked.

"No," he shook his head, "You're different," he closed his eyes and inhaled letting out a soft groan.

"Oh," she laughed, "You enjoyed that, huh?"

"It was glorious." He flashed her that beaming smile.

She hummed contently.

"You know how I work, how I connect," he paused, looking her up and down, studying her... "With a vial I could have followed you all over Europe for a century, but you, you gave me a bag. Now why is that?"

"Oh, I have my reasons," she approached him and steered him back toward the window. "Now go off with you, I have a plane to catch in the morning."

His cold fingers snaked around her wrist and his eyes locked onto hers as he teetered on the edge. "Be careful, Cooper."

"Always am," she whispered. And with that he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Malibu <strong>

The air was hot and dry and already she missed the London rain. Her father had an apartment that overlooked the beach; the sand already filled with overly loving couples more than eager to rub each other's bodies down with suntan lotion and oil and a good amount of topless women. Yeah, she could see why her dad liked it here.

"All settled in pun'kin," her dads voice called from the door way. He had aged well for a man of sixty five. His hair still held a good bit of color, but that was because he dyed it regularly, keeping flecks of grey in. He had put on a small amount of weight, not enough to be considered completely out of shape but enough to give him a little bit of a belly.

"Yeah, I'm all good," she nodded. "Take away for dinner?" she suggested.

"Take out," he corrected with a chuckle.

"Ahh well old habits you know."

"And not very healthy ones," he grinned, "but oh so good!" he gave his little belly a pat. "I'll order.

They sat around and watched T.V. as they ate, talking and laughing about fond old memories; ignoring the bad. Christopher gathered up the Chinese food containers and carried them off to the kitchen. Miranda sipped on a glass of water and turned her eyes to the television screen. Some sort of ridiculous promo for some Vegas show; all dark and dangerous. She rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, glancing at the screen once more. They were showing the showman himself now; long black hair, a few piercings here and there, typical open shirt, tattoos, guy-liner on his big doe eyes…

"Holy fucking shit." The glass fell from her hand and promptly soaked into the carpet. She grabbed the remote and hit the rewind on the DVR. _Peter Vincent_ the title card read. She let it go forward again and paused it on his face. How it took her that long she would never know, she could pick those eyes alone out of a god damned line up.

"Well, now that that's out in the open. Speaking of bad habits…" her father spoke up from behind her.

Miranda spun around on the couch. "You knew about this!? And you didn't say anything?!"

"I didn't think you'd find out so quickly," he shrugged.

"You're practically in his back yard!"

"Just let him go, Randi, that boy really messed you up, Randi." He came and sat next to her on the couch. "It's time to forget the past and move on."

"That boy is the reason I do what I do," she snarled, getting up from the couch and storming off to the spare room.

"And what exactly is that, Miranda. You say you get rid of monsters. Like what? A cop, CIA, secret service, some British agency?" he berated her as she stuffed her things back into her bag.

"Just that dad, I make bad things disappear…like magic," she said with a glaring look, shoving past him and marching out the door.

"Where the hell are you going?!" he yelled after her.

"To see a show," she muttered under her breath, heading to the nearest bus stop.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey-ooooo whew that was the longest chappy to date! So be honest and tell me who loves and who hates the new Miranda. I hope you all love her! She's spunky...I like that, she's flirty...I like that too. I hope you all like her as much as I do :D I can't wait until the first reunion, that should go over real well don't you think. I had a blast writing this, I knew I would, grown up Pandi (that's what I'm calling them now) is soo much fun to write. I really should go to bed now though. I have a nurse coming over early to show me how to use my new drug injector tomorrow (yay, can you feel my enthusiasm o-O ) So I should sleep...but I want to continue...we'll see. Remember to leave some love in that magic box, maybe Peter will send you a magical treats in return...or series of fucks...either is good I suppose.**

**Shelly!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hindrance**

Bright lights, big city, loads of half-naked girls walking around the streets. Yeah…she should have known Peter would end up in Vegas someday. She didn't think it would be as a performer, a magician no less, maybe a washed up drunk…or a pimp.

She went semi-formal; she wasn't planning on running into him, but just in case she was going to make sure she at least looked good because she sure as hell was going to lose her mind. She wore a black form fitting dress with a plunging v neckline accenting the curves of her breasts probably a little more than necessary. But hey, if you wanted to flaunt what god gave you than this was the place to do it. Red peek-a-boo heels, her hair was down and left in its naturally wavy state and just a small amount of makeup. She approached the box office and slid her card under the window.

"One, please."

The attendant started to print her ticket and then glanced down at her card, stopping with a smile. "We already have a ticket set aside for you "Ms. Cooper," she said sweetly sliding back her card and a small envelope with her name hand written across the front. "Enjoy."

Miranda was steered to a table towards the left front of the stage with reserved cards all across the middle. VIP table. Great. She rolled her eyes and gave a short laugh.

"Is there a problem miss?" the usher asked.

"No, thank you." _Not yet anyway_, she thought to herself. She knew damned well she'd be spotted before nights end. Maybe he wouldn't recognize her, it had been over twenty years after all. She had a feeling she would have better luck that pigs would fly out of her ass.

He was pretty good, damn good, she could see why he had a packed house; he really worked the crowd and they ate it up. He worked in small illusions and made them appear just as grand as the big ones each one a little bit creepy and on the edge. And then came the vampires…girl vampires. Crawling around in thin white negligees; bearing their teeth as he fought them off with fire rigs, collapsible stakes and other similar weapons. Oh, and now they were crawling around on a large bed, provocatively surrounding this one poor victim with even less clothes on.

"Real classy, Peter," she smirked and shook her head.

There was a burst of flames and then both he and the girl were gone and the audience burst into screams and applause. Miranda squinted as a bright light swept into her eyes before stopping in the center of the isle directly in front of her. The two of them standing there with big smiles on their faces; he still had that boyish cheeky grin and it made her heart skip a beat and her stomach do a flip. He was so close and yet so far away. She bit her lower lip and stood with the rest of the crowd, applauding them while her face wore a sad sideways smile. He turned then, his eyes meeting hers and she saw his wide grin drop to a gape of shock. He looked her over once and tilting his head as the corners of his mouth twitched up.

She shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows and smiled back.

Peter turned back to give his audience a bow, jogging up the stairs to the main stage and bowing again with the rest of his performers. Miranda used it as an opportunity to leave, slipping out one of the side exits. She easily made it out of the lobby and eventually hailed a cab; groaning while she let her head fall against the seat.

She was toeing off her shoes when the cabbie rolled down the passenger's side window and could be heard mumbling to someone on the street. A moment later the back door opened. She blew a curl out of her eye in annoyance; the last thing she wanted was company on her way back to the hotel.

"Ms. Cooper?" A younger man stuck had his hands on his knees and stuck his head down so she could see him from where she was sitting.

_Shit! There goes my getaway_, she thought to herself. She wasn't ready for this, not now. She doubted he was either. "Maybe-" she drew the word out.

"Mr. Vincent would like to see you," he smiled offering out his hand.

She shook her head and tugged at her hair laughing while letting out a sigh. "Yeah, I bet he does." She pushed her shoes back on and let the stranger help her out of the cab and lead her back inside and into the elevator. He slid a card into a slot below all the regular floor buttons and the P button.

"Of course," she mouthed to herself, but her new found acquaintance noticed.

"I know who you are, you know," he said matter of factly. Hands behind his back and eyes tilted to the ceiling. "Words of advice," he lowered his face to look at her as they reached the top. "Pete's a super douche."

She waited for him to continue but he said nothing. "I thought you were giving me advice," she said mockingly.

"Yea…never mind, nothing would help with that. Name's Tom by the way."

The door dinged and opened to a large hallway. "Well, Tom…Peter's always had that quality," she grinned, "or at least the makings of one."

She pressed the buzzer to the side of the door and clasped her hands behind her back, swaying nervously side to side.

"Yeah, hello?" his voice came from the intercom. It was so different from his show voice, a little gravelly, so much older than that sweet young tone he had when he was just a boy and dare she say…sexy.

"P-peter?" she answered back, ignoring the increasing rate of her heart beat.

"Oh! OH! Yea, one second." The door made several clicking and unbolting sounds. "Come on in."

She pushed the door open into what looked like a museum of artifacts from all over the world; each one had their own individual casing and name card; they filled the walls as well, and podiums that stood on the floor.

"Well someone's been busy," she said with a laugh, running her finger over the curve of a blade with scripted writing on it. _Mors tua, vita mea._

"Your death, my life." His voice rang out behind her. She turned to see him standing in the middle of the large sitting room, leather pants, shirtless, tumbler in hand. Her breath caught in her throat.

He had certainly filled out, the once mousey, doe eyed boy made one hell of a man. The long hair was gone, as well as the hair on his face and the tattoos and the piercings. He was just…Peter…with eyeliner…actually she kind of liked that. His hair slightly longer and a little darker but still a mess, a small tuft of hair in the middle of his chest, he had grown a few more inches as well and those big brown eyes were just as bright as ever. It had been twenty four god damned years and she still felt as if she was but a girl. "Hello, Miranda," he grinned; and her knees wobbled.

"Hi," she breathed.

He let out a small giggle, that same giggle he had always had, short and high pitched and hopelessly adorable. He set the tumbler down on a nearby table and closed the gap between them in a few short steps and quickly wrapped his arms around her, picking her up and spinning her around. She shrieked and hugged him back, breathing him in; he smelled of cloves and that god awful melon liquor he had liked so much.

So he added smoking to his list of bad habits? How fabulous.

He set her down and with her heels she was just below his eye line. They stayed that way for a short moment, him with his hands resting on her hips and her with her arms around his neck. Her smile quickly turned to a frown and she removed her arms and reared back and swiftly landed one hand on his cheek.

"Oi! What the fuck, Randi!" He hollered, rubbing his cheek and taking a few steps back.

"You never called, you lying bastard." She poked her finger into his shoulder. "Not even to let me know you were okay. I expected you would eventually drop off the face of the earth, but not overnight. That's not fair. For all I knew you could have been dead," she hissed, turning her back to him as tears began to sting her eyes.

"Call? For what? To be belittled and called a coward by your war hero of a father," he scoffed. "I couldn't call, Miranda, not even if I wanted to, the damn card was canceled after three fucking days and I was sleeping in the equivalent of a French gutter!" he snapped grabbing the glass and sauntering back out of the room.

She followed after him, her heels clicking loudly on the tile.

"Well you seem to be doing just fine now, Mr. Vincent," she sneered as he poured himself another glass and downed it. "Look who's amazing now." She wiggled her hands and the air and threw him a smug smile.

"Yooouu-haaahaahmm," he emitted a high pitched hum as he drained the liquid straight from the bottle now.

Miranda sashayed up to the bar and leaned over the counter, glaring into his dark eyes. "So how many?"

"How many what?" he muttered, pulling the bottle away from his mouth.

"How many of the girls in your show have you fucked? There's what twelve? So I'm guessing at least eight. And I bet you have all kinds of groupies." She snatched the bottle from his hand and took a good amount of it down before slamming it back down on the counter top. His eyes grew darker and his nostrils flared slightly but he said nothing.

"What's the matter Pete, afraid you're going to hurt my feelings? I'm not a little girl anymore," she stated quietly.

"Put a shirt on," he said gruffly.

"I'm sorry what," she coughed, slightly taken aback.

"P_ut a shirt on." He let his eyes wander, not hiding the fact that he was practically wanted to eat her alive. "You're distracting."

"I'm distrata-,"she laughed harshly, "You put a shirt on.

"My fucking house," he indicated with a tilt of the head and a cocky smile. He left the room and when he returned he had a t-shirt in hand and he tossed it to her.

Miranda rolled her eyes and let the shirt fall to the floor. "I'm leaving."

"Oh, so now you're walking away?" he spat.

"Yeah, I am." She began to make her way through the maze of artifacts and weapons.

Her words felt so cold in his chest as if someone had just shoved a metal rod through his heart and pulled it straight out. He wanted to stop her. To break down and apologize right then and there, but that was who he was before, the only hope that the old Peter even existed somewhere inside him laid within her.

"What happened to _always,_ Miranda?" he whispered softly.

She turned back to see him standing there with his hands hanging limply by his sides and a sadness gleaming in his eyes.

"We were kids, Peter, always doesn't last forever," she lied; always had meant always, but if she didn't get out of there soon she felt as if she would explode into an emotional mess. And right now she needed to stay strong.

"For me it did." He blinked slowly and ran a hand through his hair shaking his head and glancing up towards the high ceiling. "I meant every fucking word that fell out of my mouth. EVERY FUCKING ONE!" he shouted and she inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and looking away when she let out a small sob. Regret hit him like a ton of bricks. He started to take a step towards her but she held up her hands front of her and took a deep breath.

"I can't do this," she uttered, shaking her head and nibbling on her bottom lip. She turned back around and started to leave again.

"Randi, wait," he called after her; but it was no use. "Miranda! Miranda come back!" The only reply he received was the ear deafening slam of his penthouse door. "Fuck," he swore under his breath. She had been right here within his reach and he went and pissed her off. Well, she was scorned to begin with, but his douche-baggery didn't help the matter. He sighed and passed a hand over his face; he had no clue why where or how long she was even staying, or why she had come here to begin with. She certainly had grown up though. When he caught that glimpse of her at the show his heart nearly stopped beating, it definitely skipped more than a few beats. And that dress, that body, good god, he could use a cold shower just thinking about it. But he fucked up, like always; and once again she was out of his life.

* * *

><p>Miranda made it back to the elevator and pushed the down button, but when the door opened she didn't get in. She just stood there, shoes dangling from her finger tips, staring at the mirrored backing, his door looming in the distance. She couldn't shake him from her thoughts, yes he was the one who left, but at the time he had genuinely thought it the only way, and apparently he had had one hell of a time. His drinking was clearly out of control, she doubted if there was a moment of the day that he was sober; oddly enough the more she thought about it the less it bothered her. Shit, she could use a good bottle right about now. A large one.<p>

But above all things she hurt him with her lie. The pain in his face was gut wrenching and it was her fault. The fact of the matter was for the past twenty four years she longed for him, now here he was and she practically shoved him in front of moving traffic. I wasn't her wisest decision to date, but she turned around and when she reached the door she found it still unlocked and slipped inside, leaving her shoes by the door. She padded her way into the living room, where he stood leaning against a window pane staring sullenly out at the city. Miranda cleared her throat.

Peter turned, let out a heavy sigh and began to approach her. "Randi, I know I'm not the greatest person, I'm actually probably the worst human being in Vegas. And then there's you." He stopped in front of her. "I'm sorry, for being-"

She raised a finger and placed it over his lips to silence him. She let her hand stroke the light stubble on his cheek and he leaned into her touch with a content sigh. Bringing her other hand up she let her fingers wander through his hair and smiled.

"You don't have any idea how glad I am all that shit was part of your act," she whispered.

"What, you mean you don't like the tattoos, or the hair," he smirked.

"Hate it," she playfully sneered with a shake of her head. "The eye liner I could live with."

"Really now?" he asked with slight shock in his voice and an arched brow.

"Yep," she said popping the _p_ and going up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his lips. She kissed him again, with a little more pressure and he quickly wrapped himself around her waist. She slid her arms up around his neck and tugged down to reach him with more urgency, prompting his hands to land firmly on her hips and she wasted no time in jumping into his arms, her legs locking behind his waist. Peter moaned into her mouth when she nibbled his lip before tasting the rest of him, her tongue gliding in over his, her fingers fisted in his hair and he let out another groan.

He began to back up and they soon tumbled over the chaise lounge. She was straddling him now, her dress dangerously close to riding up over her hips as she ever so slightly pressed against him.

"God, Miranda, these pants are tight enough," he breathed against her skin.

"Is that so?" she teased, rotating her hips atop him with a wicked grin on her face. His hands came up and held her in place. He sat up and with a small yelp quickly had her on her back. His hands slid up her waist and into her hair as his lips kissed along the v in her dress. He continued on up her neck line her breath hitched when he took her earlobe into his mouth and gently sucked before biting down earning a whimper and fingers clenching on his back. He undid the hook at the back of her dress and slid the zipper down, sliding the straps down slowly over her shoulders until the dress pooled at her middle. Peter sat back; breathing ragged, and just looked at her with pure admiration.

"What," she blushed with half a laugh.

"It's just," he paused with a smile in his eyes and came back down, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. "Never mind," he whispered, kissing her again.

She raked her hand gently through the patch of hair on his chest, "Never mind what, Peter?" she gently coaxed. "I don't think now is time to be holding things back."

He touched his forehead to hers and captured her lips once more.

"You're stalling," she hummed with a smile.

"Am not, taking my time is all." He kissed the tip of her nose and brushed his hand along the side of her face, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Are you sure about this, Miranda?" His eyes held a small amount of sadness as he spoke. "I mean this is us, I can't fuck that up. Don't let me."

Miranda turned her head and kissed the inside of the palm that was cupping her cheek. "I think we are well past that point," she teased with a grin.

"Randi, I mean it." Peter sat up and removed himself from her, taking her hand and pulling her up beside him. "You have no idea what I've become."

"I have an idea," she assured him, intertwining her fingers with his.

"Before, when you asked-"

"Shhh-" she hushed him, moving over his lap and placing a warm kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm not going anywhere, Peter," she whispered, moving her lips over his, losing her hands in his thick head of hair. She pushed her hips back and he let out a groan, his hands moving from her hips to under her dress and on her bottom. She whimpered as he deliberately pushed her down harder against him.

"Do we finally get to make it to a bed?" he asked huskily in her ear.

She nodded and kissed him soundly in response.

With her legs wrapped around his waist he managed to swiftly stand and start stumbling their way to the bedroom, backing into a few walls on their way.

Then the front door opened.

They both quickly pulled back from each other with equally wide eyes and low hanging jaws. Peter gently lowered her to the floor and held a finger to his lips.

"Peter," a Latina woman's voice echoed from the entryway."

"Fuck!" Peter mouthed wile scrunching up his face, quickly pulling up Miranda's dress and zipping up the back.

"Who the fuck is that?!" she whispered harshly pointing out towards the other room.

Peter raised his hands in defense "Twenty plus years," he whispered with a shrug.

"You were supposed to take me to dinner douchebag," the woman's voice kept going, "I can't believe I actually waited for you." Her voice continually getting closer.

"Ah, well she knows your name," Miranda sneered.

"Shut it!" Peter shot back.

"But then Tomas said you had some bullshit meeting. You don't even _attend_ your own meetings. It took him this long to even let me upstairs. If you blew me off for another one of those stage sluts I swear to god!"

Miranda swatted him in the chest and he stumbled back a step just as she came into view. She recognized her right away as one of the girls from his show, the one in even less clothing. Long dark hair, dark skin, lots of it showing. Not that she could talk; she was showing a bit of herself tonight.

"I didn't blow you off Ginger, something came up," Peter shook his head, talking to her in a brash tone. "Ginger, this is Miranda. Miranda, this is Ginger." He gestured greetings between the two and then went to pour himself a drink.

Ginger looked at her for a few moments before her eyes got slightly bigger and she began to nod. "Oh, I see now. You're the girl in Pete's wallet… So you do exist."

Peter coughed from the kitchen and sent green liquor spilling all over the counter tops.

"Excuse me?" Miranda's eyebrows went up, both shocked and a little confused.

"Alright, that's quite enough getting to know each other; Miranda has a big day tomorrow!" Peter rushed over and began to steer her out by the shoulders.

"Peter, what-"

"Ginger, I'll be back in a minute, we'll get that dinner," he called over his shoulder, pushing Miranda out into the hall stepping out after her.

Miranda cleared her throat as they waited for the elevator to open. "So…girlfriend then."

"Randi, don't," Peter sighed and tugged at his hair.

"Oh I'm sorry, because I thought I was about to give myself to you only to find that somebody else has dibs." She crossed her arms and averted her gaze.

"She's not my girlfriend," he argued.

"So she's just a good time then. That makes me feel much better," she jeered.

"It's complicated."

"I'd say so. Hope she knows she's not your girlfriend." Her tone was low and dull.

He set his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to glance at him. "Miranda," he pleaded softly, "please don't do this, not now, not when I just got you back." He pulled her to his chest, tucking her head under his chin just as he did so long ago. Reluctantly she slid her arms around his waist. Peter pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I'm sorry, really I am," he muttered before kissing her again.

He felt her nod against him and was glad to see a hint of a smile on her face when he pulled away. The elevator dinged and she stepped inside.

"Wait, how do I find you?" Peter asked placing his hand over the door.

Miranda bit her lower lip and glanced around, spotting a pen on the floor in the far corner.

"Happen to have some paper?"

He struggled to get a hand into his pocket and pulled out a crinkled up Starbucks receipt. She scribbled down her information and folded the paper in two, slipping it in the front of his pants with a sly grin.

"You better not disappear again, Peter," she teased, running her thumbs along the waistband of his pants.

"Not a chance," he grinned, swooping down in an attempt to catch her lips in a kiss, but she turned and he landed on her cheek instead. He chuckled lightly, "Right, I see."

"Mmm, girlfriend. And don't say she's not. Now go, she'll be expecting that dinner."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I have fabulous room service. Or so I've heard," she chuckled and went up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Goodnight, Peter," she smiled stepping to the back of the elevator.

"I'll call!" he shouted as the door slid closed and he vanished from her view.

"I know," she whispered to herself, emitting a content sigh and grinning the whole way down.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Don't get too used to these long chapters, I don't know how long they will last :D But I do love writing them so! I know I don't have a lot of you but love sure would be nice in that lovely box. I gave you some lovely teaser lemonade. Can't be too naughty, it is only rated T after all. On another note I survived my first Rebif injection. And I did it all by myself! Now I must sleep, the rebif makes me a little sleepier and I can't stay up as late. Don't forget to leave me love, love equals tumblers full of midori XD**

**Shelly**


	14. Chapter 14

**Room Service**

The staff might have said room service was great; well sure, if great is the equivalent of cardboard pizza and microwaved bread sticks. She tried to eat it, really, but it just wasn't happening. She'd have better luck chipping a tooth than swallowing any of it down. At least the place wasn't a total dump; she had a decent bed and a TV, one of those ghetto casinos attached to the building in case the urge overcame her.

She changed into a pair of shorts and an old tank top after her shower nursing a small blister on her foot, still pouting that the guard in Peter's building wouldn't let her go back up and retrieve her shoes. She rather liked those shoes even if they didn't like her very much. She sighed and clicked on the television, an ad for Peter's Fright Night show, some missing kids on the news, late night skin-a-max…how lovely. She settled on the game show network and went to the bed to unload her weapon pack. She started with the big gun; taking everything apart and making sure it was nice and clean in case she needed it, reloading it with fresh preloaded exploding stakes. She set it aside and unfolded the black casing that held her various staking devices; be it wooden, blessed, cursed, or steel, checking all were there and accounted for and undamaged. She had several smaller hand guns that she quickly cleaned and re-holstered and added to the pile of weaponry. She chuckled at the sight of it. No girl in her right mind should be toting around such things in her overnight bag, and here she did it on a daily basis.

There was a light rapping on the door and a scuffle on the pavement outside. Miranda glanced at the bedside clock, reading well past two in the morning. _This is going to be interesting_; she thought as she picked up one of her hand guns and loaded the chamber. She approached the door slowly and undid the lock, cracking the door open slightly. When the door burst open quickly she raised her gun and aimed it steadily at her intruder.

"Fucking hell!" He stumbled over his feet and fell back against the opposite wall.

"Jesus, Peter," she breathed, returning it to safety and placing it on the inside table. "Scared the shit out of me."

"You, what about me. Was that a gun? Why do you have a gun? Do you know how to use it or is it one of those hopes to scare the baddies away sort of thing?"

She snorted at his questions, ejecting the clip and showing him it was fully loaded. "Yes I know how to use it, and it's more of a kill the baddies sort of thing. I'm a girl, Pete, not helpless." Miranda reinserted the magazine and set the gun back down on the table. "So, hello," she grinned. "Wasn't expecting to see you so soon. He resembled a little more of his younger self now, dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt with a long trench style coat and tennis shoes.

"Yeah well, I couldn't sleep, dinner was a bust, I just…" he ran a hand through his hair trying to find his words, "I just really wanted to see you." His eyes wandered over to the bed and he quickly looked back to her in disbelief. "And what the holy fuck is all that?"

"Hobby?" she shrugged with an innocent grin.

Peter tossed his coat over a chair and went to sit on the edge of the bed, picking up one of the stakes, running his fingers over the etched markings and twirling it between his fingers before reaching for her big gun.

"This is looks like more than a hobby, Randi," he laughed darkly.

"Okay, more like a dirty little secret." She sat down beside him and gently turned his face so he was looking at her. "I told you I would find him," she whispered.

Peter frowned slightly. "And did you?"

"No, but I've came close," Miranda paused and squeezed her eyes shut, "sometimes a little too close," she squeaked. She stood and began to put her things back in her bag. "Look, it's what I do now, Peter. I've helped a lot of people, sometimes it's enjoyable, and I'm quite good at it." She shoved the bag in the back of the closet and turned to face him. Peter was still watching her with worrisome eyes and that god awful frown.

"What exactly is too close?"

She approached him and gave his hands a squeeze. "Nothing, everything turned out fine. It was a long time ago."

Peter groaned and pulled at his hair. "No, Miranda it's not fine. You only did this because of me. It all happened because of me. Ergo, whatever happened is because of me!"

"No, what happened, happened because I was young and stupid."

Peter sighed and hung his head in his hands. "Miranda, please. Please just tell me." He picked up his head and looked back at her, his chocolate eyes damp and guilt ridden. She let out a breath and after a moment slowly nodded once.

Miranda wiggled one arm out the left side of her tank top and slid the strap of her bra down, stopping when Peter's eyebrows started to go up. "None of that. Behave," she smirked.

Peter coughed. "Right."

She folded the top inch of her bra down revealing two small round black dots. Peter instinctively reached out and brushed his fingertips across her skin.

"You…you were…"

"Bit. Yes. And he drank a lot," Miranda scoffed.

Peter huffed, "But…you're not…well…you know."

"No," she smiled. "You're aware of blessed stakes, have one of your own. A special one at that," she pulled her shirt back on. "Very rare," she whispered.

"Cost me a pretty penny too, was told it was the only one."

"Oh, specifics," she rolled her eyes. "Bet your seller was some specialist in demonology as well."

Peter shrugged and nodded in agreement.

"There's a few, different stakes do different things. Mine just so happened to save my life, and gave me the grand gift of being able to pick a breed out of a line up."

"What are you talking about, like a scent?"

Miranda sucked in her bottom lip and looked towards the window, "Blood."

Peter moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders. "Miranda, what do you mean blood?" his voice shaky and panicked.

"Sometimes by smell, color, always taste. Their blood is as much of a map to them to me as ours is to them." She saw the fear in his eyes as he backed away and she grabbed his hands.

"Look, it happened, I'm still here, I'm still me, I just have a better chance of finding that asshole now than I did before."

Peter's eyes widened and he jumped up from the bed and began to pace the room. "Is that why you're here? Is he here?! Randi, we could go right now, forget the show I'll start again and-"

Miranda stepped in front of him and placed her hands on either side of his face, stopping him in his tracks. He was still so much of a boy inside. "Peter, stop. Yes, that's why I came to the states, but not here; I came to Vegas to see you. I was at my dad's and I saw an ad for your show and the next day I was here."

A small amount of relief passed over his face and he began to relax under her touch. "The only thing terrorizing Nevada at the moment is you," she teased.

"Ha ha," he smirked

"Now, no more vampire talk. It makes you bat-shit crazy and I just want to enjoy my time here." She stretched her arms above her head and let a yawn escape from her mouth.

"You're tired, I'll go," he stated plainly.

Miranda tilted her head rolled her eyes up at him. "You came all the way here to argue with me about my current job and now you're going to leave? Really? You have somewhere you have to be early?"

"No," he quickly replied, "No, just rehearsal, but I'm never on time and I live in the damn building. Oh! I almost forgot." He left the room and a minute later returned with a pair of red shoes dangling from his fingertips. "Found these at my place, but they're not my size," he grinned.

"Aww, come now, I bet you'd look damn fine in those," she laughed, taking them from him and setting them down beside the night stand. "Thank you." She flopped down on the bed and tucked her arms behind her head. "So, no dinner?"

"Weelll, we went." She felt the bed dip beside her and turned her head to be greeted by floppy hair and big brown eyes. "But she was really pissy; I don't do well with pissy."

"I can be pissy,"

"Really? Haven't noticed," he teased. "Besides, you're special." He scooted closer and dropped a kiss on her shoulder before nuzzling her arm and slinking an arm around her middle.

"You're in dangerous territory there, Mr. Vincent," she blew a puff of air into his face.

He giggled lightly, "Innocent intentions, scouts honor," he chuckled, patting her hip. "Just think of it as old times."

"Old times," she repeated. "When I was coaxing you out of a nightmare every other hour?" Miranda turned on her side to face him. "How do you sleep, Peter? That's not just something that gets better."

Peter sighed and shook his head, "No, it's not." He released her and rolled on his back and closed his eyes. "All of them," he said quietly.

"What?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

He kept his eyes shut and answered her slowly. "You asked how many of the girls I slept with…all of them."

Miranda stayed silent. Was she shocked? Not really, Peter had always been into girls and now he was famous and could practically have any girl he wanted. Was she hurt? A little, but she honestly didn't have the right to be. It wasn't as if he belonged to her, he was his own person and she hadn't seen him in over twenty years. Hell she had been with guys, not a whole hell of a lot, but still.

When he opened his eyes he kept them fixated on the ceiling. "I can't be alone, Miranda, I need someone there, at night, the sex was always a plus-"

Miranda jabbed him in the ribs and he rolled onto his side. "But it wasn't always about that." When she didn't say anything still he started to sit up. "Sorry, Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

He felt a small hand wrap around his wrist and pull him back down beside her. "I asked. If I didn't want to know I shouldn't have asked," she shrugged with a glum smile. "Better to know now then later I suppose. What about Ginger?"

"She's been the only one for a while now, she stays most nights in the penthouse, I do care about her-"

"Do you love her?" Miranda cut in.

"No," he answered softly, a smile tugging at his lips. Peter slinked his arm back around her waist and touched his forehead to hers. "Nope, here I am, an old man, have had my share of women and the only one I love is the one I can't seem to get the pants off of since I was sixteen."

"Shame, she was more than ready to have a night full of hot, filthy, unadulterated sex and you went and let it be known you were shacking it up with somebody else," she taunted him.

"It could be un-known," he suggested waggling his eyebrows.

"It really can't, Peter," she laughed. "I'm going to bed. Are you staying or going?"

"Am I allowed to stay?" His face twisted in confusion and an eyebrow arched high.

"You look like you could use a good sleep. Of course you can stay." She situated herself so she was under the covers and then switched off the lamp on her side of the bed. "Shorts stay on!" She commanded while rolling back over and poking him in the shoulder.

"Yeah, I know, of course," he nodded. They held each other's gaze for a few moments before Peter broke it with a soft smile and a shy pillow adjustment. "Goodnight, then," he whispered, turning over on his side and switching off his light.

* * *

><p>She woke to his twitching, it wasn't as bad as it was when they were kids, but his face was still as pained and twisted as it had ever been. His t-shirt damp and the rest of his body clammy in a cold sweat, his lips quivering as he murmured softly in his sleep. Miranda sighed and sat up; adjusting herself so she sat cross legged with a pillow between her legs and her back against the wall. Gently she rolled him on his back so his head was in her lap and she raked her fingers through the top of his hair, humming softly. His breath shuddered a few times, but stilled and then his eyes fluttered open.<p>

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hi," he sighed and then grimaced. "Sorry, Miranda."

"Peter-" she shook her head and brushed more hair from his eyes. "Does it look like I'm angry? I knew it probably was probably going to happen. Now lose the shirt, it's all sweaty."

He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it in the corner, falling back into her lap with a soft thud. "You know the other girls usually left half way through the night," he sighed.

"You know I wouldn't do that, Peter. Now sleep," she urged quietly letting her eyes slip closed.

Peter moved from her lap and gave her hand a squeeze. "Lie back down, Miranda, I should be fine now." He patted the area next to him and she eyed him wearily. "It's a little cold in here, and I'm known to be quite toasty," he grinned. "Or you could stay over there, trying to keep warm with that pitiful blanket." He closed his eyes and crossed his arms behind his head, waiting for her to make one move or the other.

It wasn't long before she was wiggling back down under the blankets and settling in with her head snuggling into his chest. He giggled and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.

"Fuck, I've missed this," he said quietly letting his cheek rest on the top of her head. She didn't reply, her breathing calm and steady; fast asleep.

* * *

><p>When Miranda woke the next day it was to a cold an empty bed. She groaned into the pillow that had previously been his and inhaled the mild scent that lingered there. She should have known he would have ended up being the type to ditch without so much as waking her.<p>

"Normally I'm the cranky one in the morning."

She flipped her head over to see him standing in the vanity area, rubbing a towel through his hair and another one casually wrapped around his waist; tiny beads of water clinging everywhere. She stifled a cough as well as a small _oh_ type noise from escaping her mouth.

"Sorry if I imposed, I'll already be late and-"

"It's fine," she managed to squeak out.

Peter came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I saw that mess of a pizza in the bin and took the liberty of ordering you real breakfast; someone should be by within the hour." He looped a finger under the bottom of her tank top and gave a small tug. "Is this mine by the way? Or was it?"

Miranda propped herself on her elbows and continued to watch the beads of water pool at the towel roll at his hip for what seemed like an eternity before finally speaking. "You should get dressed," she muttered.

Peter raised an eyebrow in question.

"You're distracting me," she mimicked his earlier words with a quiet smile before falling to her back.

"Is that so?" Peter licked his lips and braced his body over hers, his damp hair tickling her face and his dark eyes burning into hers. He dropped his face within an inch of hers and her breath quickened. She should have moved, made a motion to stop him, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so. Peter gently brought his lips down on hers, only for a moment, and then pulled away. "I _really_ have to go," he sighed.

"I know," she replied with a whisper and a nod."

He reluctantly moved away from her and gathered his things, making his way back to the bathroom to get dressed. "Are you coming tonight?" he called.

"Can't, I have…work to do," she finished quietly.

Peter's head emerged from doorway, that panicked look back in his eyes. "Randi, you have no idea-"

She got up from the bed and pointed an angry finger at him. "But I do, Peter! I know exactly what I'm getting into. And you can't talk me out of it so stop trying."

Peter raised his hands in defeat and nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and came to stand before her. "And what then, if you leave? Will you come back?"

"To what? You, Ginger, and all your fabulous girls?" she scoffed

He couldn't help but laugh; she had every right to be bitter, in fact he liked her more for it. He quite enjoyed this grown up version of Miranda.

"No, just me. I'll end it with Ginger, I'm pretty sure she knows that's coming anyway." He gave her hands a light squeeze. "I'll call, if I can't stop by."

Miranda nodded, "Yeah, okay."

"Thank you, for last night," he smiled sheepishly, glancing away from her. "You were right; it might not have been a full night's sleep, but it was more than I've had in ages. I do feel a bit better."

"Maybe, but it didn't make up for twenty four years of nightmares."

"Wellll, we'll just have to work on that in the next twenty," he grinned. "Shit! I really, really, have to go. Tom is going to make my life hell."

"Then go," she laughed, giving him a playful push towards the door. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'll tell you if I do."

"Right, tonight then?" he double checked, lingering in her doorway.

"Yes, now go." She pushed up on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his cheek, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Time for sleep. Dunkin' Donuts coffee can only carry me so far...and sadly not into Peter's penthouse...don't tell my honey I said that (although I'm sure he knows) Let's see the love! You know how much I love that sweet lovin!**

**Shelly**


	15. Chapter 15

**Small Potatoes**

"What in god's name did you do to him? Is he here? Please tell me he's not here." The younger guy that had taken her up to see Peter just the night before was now barging into her hotel room shoving a warm paper bag into her hands.

"Well, good morning…or afternoon, do you make it a habit of barging in on people in their pajamas?" Miranda kept her tone short. "And why did he send you? Isn't this a little beyond your…what exactly are you?"

The man laughed, "Lately? I'm everything. Nobody else was _willing _to do it; they were too busy being angry that the main event was over two hours late to rehearsal and calling in favors."

"So why did you?"

"He was in a good mood. Peter's never in a good mood." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So I ask again, what did you do?"

"He needed sleep, I made sure he got it," she shrugged. Miranda took a seat at the table in front of the TV and began to unpack the contents of the bag. Belgian waffles, bacon, lots of hash browns (she had a major weakness for hash browns and he knew it); she bit back a moan.

"What, did you drug him, or are you just that good of a lay?"

"No," she laughed, "he has trouble sleeping, has for a long time. Helped him through it that's all." She moaned as she shoveled some food into her mouth. "I wouldn't bring it up," she mumbled, "you can imagine what that would do; and don't worry, by the time you get back I'm sure he'll be just as pissy as he usually is." Miranda continued to eat and Tom continued to stare at her and blink. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm sure you have work to do, and I'd really like to enjoy the rest of this."

"Where have you been?" he whispered with a soft chuckle.

"Excuse me?"

"Occasionally Pete will get too wasted even for him. He would mention your name, I always figured you were some old fling that wised up and left, but it goes way deeper than that doesn't it?"

"You don't even want to know," she snorted. "Can I enjoy my breakfast now?" She threw up one hand and gestured to her food with the other.

Tom nodded and started to leave.

"Oh, and leave me his number won't you, if he can find me, it's only fair that I can get ahold of him."

* * *

><p>At least all the rigging was working properly, and most of the electrics, by some sort of miracle that always seemed to be worked out by show time anyhow. It was the crew and the girls that were giving him problems today. The crew did what they could get done by ignoring him completely and the girls lazily went through the motions on stage with bored looks washed over their faces. Ginger wasn't even speaking to him, if she had anything to say she'd route it through someone standing nearby, even on the things they did together he would attempt to talk to her and she would just turn up her face and look elsewhere. The one good night and decent morning he had had in so very long had turned to udder shit in a hand basket.<p>

"I'd appreciate if you people actually start putting some fucking effort into this! So I was fucking late, what else is new?" he announced to everyone in the general vicinity.

"Late," Ginger scoffed somewhere nearby. "How cute, he thinks he was late, twenty minutes is late, two and a half hours, is almost half a day."

Peter spun to face her with a raised finger, "You-"

"Marie, please tell _Mr. Douchebag_ over there I _won't_ be joining him tonight." She smiled sweetly to the girl standing next to her.

"Mr. Vincent, Ginger won-"

"I have fucking ears, Marie!" he interrupted. "I already had plans for tonight anyway."

"Oh, with his new fuck-buddy no doubt, that's why he was late by the way. I assumed he was seeing her off, but I guess she still graces us with her presence," Ginger sneered.

Peter's face tightened and his eyes narrowed at her in a deafening silence.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say I hurt his feelings, but we all know the great Peter Vincent doesn't have feelings. Isn't that right ladies." She smiled mockingly at him, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side.

"Come now girls, we have two more hours to get through, I'd like to him to stay sober at least until show time," Tom groaned from off stage stepping up behind Peter and giving his shoulder a pat. Peter brushed him off and held up his hands in defense, walking off stage and rummaging through the drink cart.

"Real nice, Ginger," Tom scolded.

"What?" she snapped, "They all agreed." She motioned to the other girls who were in fact all nodding their heads.

"Can we just continue please and maybe with feeling from now on," Tom huffed as he walked away.

A sharp trilling cut throughout the theater and then stopped a moment later. When it started again Peter slammed down the bottle he was draining.

"Whose fucking phone is that?!"

"Yours," Ginger retorted.

Peter groaned and dug around the surrounding tables for the source until he found it.

"What!" he barked into the receiver.

"Well I'm so glad to see you're back to normal," Miranda's voice chuckled from the other end.

Peter cupped the phone in his hand and went out the side door and into the back hall.

"Sorry, hi," he smiled softly, his mood instantaneously lightening. "How was breakfast?"

"Oh my god, Peter, you're amazing, it was perfect," she gushed and he could hear the smile in her voice. He stayed quiet for a moment, content just knowing she was on the other end.

"You there?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "I'm here."

"Are you okay? You sound a little…off," she coaxed.

"Day turned to shit, it's a little better now-"

Miranda let out a small laugh.

"-it'll be over soon enough. Sure you don't want to come tonight?"

"Can't, busy, just wanted to call and thank you for breakfast."

"Fair enough. How about after, then? You could come up, we'll order in…" he suggested, scrunching up his face waiting for her answer.

"No Ginger tonight?" she asked, attempting to not sound bitter about it.

"No," he scowled. "No more Ginger."

"Is that a fact?" she smirked.

"By tonight, yes."

"I like the sound of that," she purred, "just you, and me, uninterrupted…"

"Right, I should go now," he breathed.

"Yeah, that'd probably be best," she giggled. "I'll see you tonight."

"I'm counting on it."

He hung up the phone with a grin, letting his fingers linger for a moment on the screen as if she was actually there. The exit door opened and Tom's head popped out before he stepped out into the hall.

"Hey man," he greeted him with a half-smile.

"Nice to see someone who doesn't hate me today," Peter scoffed. "Any particular reason for that?"

"I'm not one to pry, Pete-"

"Then don't."

Tom rolled his eyes, "Look, I was watching when you spotted that girl at the show; it was like something inside you suddenly started working."

Peter glared at him with his arms folded in front of him; he didn't need Tom giving him the lowdown on relationships, he knew very well how he felt. Still he let him continue.

"Your whole demeanor changes when it comes to that girl, she's good for you, Peter. Real good." Tom took a step forward and jabbed a finger into his coat. "Don't fuck it up."

Peter swatted his hand away. "Piss off," he chortled. "Can we get back to work now? I'd like very much for things to run smoothly tonight. Even if nobody else seems to give a damn."

Tom clapped his hands and rubbed them together with a big smile on his face. "The better the show, the bigger the audience, the bigger the check!"

"See there, now go tell that to everyone else," Peter grumbled, holding the door open for him. "GINGER!" he yelled for her as he made his way back on stage.

She sauntered up to him, hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. "I'm not talking to you, or did you forget."

"Fuck off, and do your job, okay?" Peter plastered a fake sweet smile on his face and her look only angered. "And we're done, feel free to drop by and collect your shit, but we're done." He stepped around her and began to walk away.

"Peter," she called after him.

He closed his eyes in annoyance and slowly turned back.

Surprisingly enough she shook her head and laughed, walking back over to him, taking his hands in hers and pulling him down to gently press a kiss to his cheek. Peter blinked back at her in confusion, certainly not the reaction he was expecting.

"I can't speak for the others, but _I know_ you have feelings, Peter; and it's nice to finally see them. There's a good guy hiding in there, why don't you let him out once in a while? Hmmm?" she smiled lightly. "I'm going to slap you now," she shrugged, "you know, for show" she said with a whisper. Ginger took a step back and took a frustrated breath before her hand landed hard on his face and she stomped away muttering curses under her breath.

Peter winced and rubbed at his cheek. "Twice in one week," he muttered to himself. Peter turned back to his crew and held his arms open, making his grand re-entrance. "All right people; let's get this through this fucking thing!"

The pathway that lead around the front of the stage was engulfed in one large orange flame and that dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.

"Sorry!" Tom hollered from off stage. "At least it's working, right?"

Peter shook his head in defeat. The quicker this day was finished the happier he would be.

* * *

><p>Miranda flipped through the tabs open on her screen, dropped missing person cases in New Mexico, Arizona, southern California, and most recently Nevada. The last one hit her hard and she hoped it was a mere coincidence. Whole families at a time would up and vanish, be there one day gone the next and then months later a relative would call and say they called to let them know they were alive and well. No killings though, in all the families that were reported missing no one turned up dead…well brutally murdered dead.<p>

She was looking at, at least twenty families in all, that were accounted for, god only knows how many he managed to scrape up that were homeless or loners. She scrunched up her face and rubbed at her temples, not even wanting to look at the Vegas records, as they were the most recent. Four families within the last three months and all cases still open. It was plausible. People move in, lose everything and high tail it out of there. But it didn't sit well with her, and it was going to kill Peter if he found out. She groaned and let her head fall on the table, allowing it to stay there until a light series of taps came from the door.

She unlocked the door and opened it until the chain was taught. She smirked when she saw that dark hair and a pair of green eyes peeking in at her. She shut the door and undid the chain, allowing him inside.

"You travel fast."

"You do realize that I can feel you right?" Dimitri scowled, "Emotionally, so excuse me if your _excitement _made me a little on edge." He cocked his head and slumped down on the couch across from the computer.

"Ooooh, someone's jealous," she teased

"Of course I'm jealous; you super glued yourself to me with that fucking blood of yours."

Miranda shrugged, "It's always good to have an ally on the other side." She sat beside him. "And you're not that bad, I've come across much worse," she smiled softly. "You look hungry though, I might have a bag-"

"Nope! As tempting as that is, _you_ are bad for me," he said sternly, tapping a finger on her knee.

Miranda gasped and held a hand over her chest. "That hurts and I'm really not you know. I was going to say sheep's blood…if you want it."

Dimitri sighed, rubbing his chin, his eyes starting to fade from a brilliant emerald to a hungering black. Miranda mussed his hair when she got up to go to the mini fridge.

"It goes both ways you know. I may not feel you, but I do have a certain attachment," she spoke as she poked a hole in the bag and drained it into a glass. "I know it's been four hundred tormenting years since you were changed, that you lost your parents when you were young, that you chose to be a connector…found that a little odd."

Dimitri watched her with careful eyes as he sipped from his cup.

"I sympathize with you, I want to help you. I don't quite know how yet, but I knew from the moment I cut you we could help each other," she said with a gentle smile.

"That's him." Dimitri nodded at the screen. "All of them, he's building up a new house by the looks of it."

"Vegas too?"

Dimitri studied the page then shrugged a shoulder. "It's early, but very likely." He sat back and watched as she slumped down in her seat.

"Shit," she whispered to herself, hanging her head in her hands.

"It was his family wasn't it? Whoever Mr. Excitement is? The one you're after killed his family and you're out for revenge."

Miranda lifted her head and slowly nodded.

"It was over twenty years ago," she said quietly, "Would he wait that long to finish someone off?"

"I really doubt it, Miranda, but I'd tread lightly." Dimitri kept his eyes on hers for a moment before getting up and heading for the door. "I'm going to stay in town for a few days, _I will not_ face him, but I can keep an eye on you here."

"You should stay here tonight," she suggested quickly, "I have plans anyhow."

"I'd rather not be close while you're with him, thank you," Dimitri sneered turning the doorknob.

Miranda snapped the door shut with her hand just as Dimitri wobbled at the knees. "I think you should lie down," she offered, slipping under his arm.

"I…I don't understand," his breathing was growing ragged as she sat him down on the bed.

"Are you insane? I can't have you running around Nevada. You'll be fine, nothing a big guy like you can't handle," she said with a sly smile as she patted his shoulder.

"What the hell did you do to me," he growled attempting to sit up.

"Be nice. We both know you won't hurt me," she scolded him with a knitted brow.

"What. Did. You. Do?" he repeated through a clenched jaw.

"Oh calm your pretty little head; it was just a tiny bit of holy water pre mixed with your sheep's blood. You'll sleep it off and feel perfectly fine in a few days."

"Not good, he'll know I'm here, he'll make a move soon," Dimitri breathed, his eyes starting to close.

"What?" Miranda lightly slapped the side of his face and his eyes flickered. "Hey, wake up, what do you mean he'll notice you're here, you're not moving in on his territory why would he care?"

"Don't do it alone, Miranda," he whispered, "Please."

"Dimitri!" She slapped him again, harder this time and shook his shoulders, "Come on now, tell me why he'll notice you!"

Dimitri's eyes fluttered once more and he flashed her a halfhearted grin. "He's my brother," he breathed before he was out again.

"Fuck." She pushed off from the bed and turned over a chair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She took a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm herself, searching her brain for answers. Who was she kidding? There were no answers there; all the fucking answers were in a damn coma in her bed. She wouldn't say anything to Peter, she couldn't. He'd freak and bail; she couldn't deal with that a second time, not when she was this close to ending it all. She figured she had maybe two days, three if she was lucky, so she better make the best of it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh snap! A normal daytime update! See there, I do things like normal people every once in a while. Does this mean you'll get another update by 2am...probably not; it's Rebif day, I get a needle and dunkin donuts to sing me to sleep. Sooooo who's excited by this little turn of events, or several turns I suppose. I know the Ginger thing will change how things go down regarding her dying and all, but she will, the circumstances will just be a tad different, and obviously when the end comes near the movie ending will just get a nice revamping (see what I did there hahahahhahaha) Goodbye for now my pretties! I was actually enjoying a nice plate of hash browns as I edited this and I started writing it two days ago :D If the world were a potato I would eat it up! Don't forget to leave me some love in the pretty box on your way out. And I promise the smut is coming.**

**Shelly**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hunger**

Miranda approached the desk at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino and was greeted by a portly security guard with glasses who was more interested in his newspaper than watching the monitors.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat loudly and drummed her fingers against the countertop.

"Lost, sweetheart?" he grumbled, not bothering to turn down his pages.

"I'm here to see Peter Vincent," she said firmly.

"Yea, you and every other girl on the strip, get in line honey, it's a long wait." He turned the page, leaving a smudge behind with his greasy stubby fingers.

"I'm Miranda Cooper," she annunciated, "if it helps."

He finally flipped down the front half of his paper, peering at her with old grey eyes. His look flickered to something behind the desk and he tossed up a plastic card.

"That just so happens to get you to the top," he smirked, motioning towards the elevators. "Perhaps you should have started with that; would have saved us both some time," he grumbled, already immersed back into his precious reading material.

* * *

><p>She was about to press the buzzer on the door when her eyes found a piece of paper just out of her line of sight. She reached up and pulled it down.<p>

_Doors open, make yourself comfortable, be out in a bit._

_-Peter_

She slid inside the door and eventually made it to the kitchen, poured herself a nice tumbler of spiced rum, and went to go stand in front of the window.

She enjoyed the slow burn that crept down her throat as she watched the cars pass by on the streets below. The glass went from floor to ceiling and on more than one occasion she would press her forehead against it to try and get a view of the sidewalk below.

The view went on for miles; all the tell-tale signs of what Vegas was could be defined by the very image. And the thing that came to her mind was what if he was out there somewhere watching them.

A pair of arms slinked around her waist, pulling her back into a warm body and Peter rest his cheek against hers. She laid her hands over his and relaxed against him. He dropped a kiss on the bare patch of skin just above her shoulder and began a trail up her neck.

"Is this how you say hello to all the girls," she teased, turning around in his arms. He had already showered and had freshly changed into a pair of jeans and a beat up shirt.

"Might be why I'm so popular," he shrugged flashing her that mile wide grin.

"Are you aware there's a line? A long one, or so I'm told."

"Yeahhh," he whined, "I had a number system, but there was a lot of foul play going on so I tried alphabetical, and that just led to more problems-"

Miranda gave him a playful swat, "Shut up," she sneered, linking her hands behind his neck and pulling him down to meet her lips. "Hungry," she murmured against him.

"Famished," he breathed as his hands trailed up and down her sides.

"No, Peter, I'm hungry," she laughed quietly, "I was reliably informed that there would be food at this assembly."

Peter glanced back at the clock on the wall, "We still have ten minutes." He took a step forward and she one back, until her body bumped into the window. He braced his arms on either side of her and brought his face down beside hers so that his breath was just tickling her ear. "We could do a lot in ten minutes."

Miranda's hands settled on the waist band of his jeans, following the length of his belt to the front. "Ten whole minutes," she whispered with a coy smile her fingers undoing the buckle and slowly sliding the leather band from the loops before letting it fall to the floor.

He swallowed hard, dark eyes meeting hers and nodded. "Yeah," he squeaked.

Miranda promptly squeezed her eyes shut, pulled in her bottom lip and unsuccessfully attempted to hold back a giggle. "Sorry." She managed to get out covering her face with both her hands.

"What in fucking hell was that?" he retorted.

"I'm sorry," she laughed again. "I wasn't expecting that to come out of you."

Peter huffed and kept his eyes on her, opening his mouth a few times, but scared of what might come out so he thought it better to just keep it shut.

"I'm sorry! Peter, I really am." She stared at him a few moments in silence before shrugging her shoulders, "If it helps it was really cute," she giggled again.

"Cute? I'm not cute!" he growled pulling at his hair causing to stick up every which way, which she thought was undeniably adorable and not helping his case in any matter what so ever.

The door buzzed and he stormed away muttering under his breath. "After twenty years of waiting she's finally undoing my trousers and calls the noise I make cute, un-fucking believable." He retrieved the food and continued his rant, "Babies are cute, puppies are cute, kittens and teddy bears but I am most certainly not-"

He stopped, nearly dropping the bag in his hands. She stood in front of the fire, flames licking at her back, her shirt still on, but unbuttoned and very open.

"Yes you are," she said soundly, sauntering up to him, taking the bag and setting it in a nearby chair. "You always have been and you always will be. Little fleeting moments when you look so much younger than what you are." She brushed back a tuft of hair from his face, letting her hand trail down his cheek and her thumb trace over his lips. "I cherish those moment's, Peter," she whispered, "They embrace everything that you are, everything that I have longed for, everything I love."

Peter took the bottom edges of her shirt between his finger tips and met her eyes with a timid smile. "So…cute?"

"Sometimes, yes," she smiled up at him.

"Right," he nodded, "I can deal with that," he said quickly, his mouth coming down on hers as he scooped her up in one swift motion. Miranda yelped and it was Peter who laughed. "Now who's making funny noises?"

She laughed and tugged his shirt over his head, her lips finding his once his face reappeared from the fabric, her hands running through his hair.

He slid her shirt from her shoulders and let it flutter to the floor before carefully lowering her onto the bed, creating a trail of small opened mouth kisses from her just above navel back to her lips. Peter took his time taking her in, tracing every curve on her body with his fingertips. His tongue slid in over hers, tasting the remainder of the rum and spearmint. His hand undid the button at the top of her jeans and his hand dipped below the waistband feeling her warmth. She moaned into his mouth when he pressed against her and wiggled the rest of the way out of her pants herself. Peter smirked against her lips.

Miranda was just as quick to reach down and unbutton his jeans, shocked when his hand closed around her wrist.

"What's wrong?" she panted.

"What if it's…I don't know…weird?" he asked with honest concern in his both his voice and eyes.

"Really, Peter? She took his face in both her hand and sighed pressing an assuring kiss to his lips. "Does it feel weird?"

He shook his head, "God no, but I'm no good at the relationship thing, and-"

"Oh shut it already," she snapped with a smile. "If you say one more word about losing me or fucking this up I'm leaving. We've been in a severely fucked up relationship since we were kids and you wanted it then." She pulled him back down and nipped his bottom lip. "Now lose the pants," she commanded quietly, pulling at his waistband.

Lose them he did, and quickly, followed by his shorts and what little clothing they had left until they were intertwined with each other in a mess of black satin sheets.

* * *

><p>Miranda lay with her head on Peter's chest, his hand idly stroking her lower back. She heard the flick of the lighter and the instant smell of cloves hovering above her.<p>

"You know how bad that is for you right?" she complained, poking at his ribs.

"As bad as chasing vampires around Europe? I'll take my chances." She felt a laugh rumble through his body. "Besides, you're good for me, so I figure it has to balance out somewhere."

"Oh, Peter," she sighed, pressing a kiss to his warm skin, "I don't think it works that way. But I guess it is a tad safer than the whole vampire thing." She said nothing for a moment, the two of them simply enjoying each others comfort.

"Peter?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Still hungry." She adjusted herself so she was peering up at him.

"I could go for desert," he quipped, flipping over and pinning her beneath him.

"You're incorrigible," she grinned.

"It's Chinese, Randi; it's a well-known fact that Chinese food can stay hot for an abnormal amount of time in its container." He kissed her softly brushing a curl from her cheek.

Her stomach rumbled in response. "Told you," she snickered. "It's been a long time since breakfast."

"You haven't eaten since breakfast?"

"I was a little busy," she shrugged.

"And you complain about my bad habits," he groaned. Peter rolled off of her and tossed her his t-shirt, pulling on his shorts and a black robe; scowling at her as he held out a hand to her.

"Oh don't look at me like that, Mr. drinks all his meals," she argued.

"I eat plenty," he assured her, "The drinking is to keep the edge off."

"And what do you eat," she teased, pinching at his middle, "Can't be much."

"Stop," he giggled, grabbing her hands and stealing a kiss. "Come on now, before you waste away."

* * *

><p>Peter watched in amusement as Miranda put away more food that he would have thought a girl of her size was possible of eating. Perhaps he should have ordered her a bigger breakfast. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, Television absentmindedly playing in the background, her leg rubbing alongside his. He hated himself for leaving to a certain degree, all those missed years that they could have had, but who was to say they would have ended up here, right now in this moment, or one similar in comparison. For all he knew his drinking would have only driven her insane and caused her to leave, shit, it still might. But he'd fight for her, she was everything he had ever wanted and more and at this very second he was happy. A feeling he had long forgotten.<p>

"What?" she mumbled, slurping up a mouthful of noodles.

"Nothing," he grinned, leaning forward and wiping the corner of her mouth with his thumb and sucking it clean.

"How'd the show go?"

"Eh," he bounced his eyebrows, "As well as expected I suppose. Then again how well can it go when everyone hates you…crowd seemed to like it well enough though."

"Ouch, that bad?" She rubbed the leg he had resting by her side. "I'm sorry, Peter."

"Don't be, I'm not." He stretched his back out along the arm of the couch. "So…the big gun…did it come from a dealer, or a collector?"

Miranda laughed, "Jealous? My gun bigger than any of yours? It even comes with exploding stakes, so if you miss your target…BAM! All gone."

"Ebay?"

"Please, Pete, half that shit on Ebay doesn't even work," she mocked.

His face fell, slightly upset by her words. "I've found some decent things on there."

"I'm sure they'll make lovely paper weights." She muttered.

Peter brushed her comment off with a shake of his head, "Really, Miranda, where'd it come from."

"Built it," she replied with a shrug. "I have a few friends in the explosive department, we calibrated. Cross bows don't work, not fast enough. Not much of anything is, even for that big beauty you have to be pretty dang close…but it's effective."

"Does your dad know?"

"Know what?"

"What you do. Have you ever told him?"

She shook her head, "No, nobody does. Just you, and whoever has paid me along the way."

"And all because of me?"

"That's how it started, yeah. I had hoped to find you along the way, when I didn't hear from you I figured you were either searching for him yourself or he had already found you. Either way I wasn't giving up. That thing took you away from me, left me with some serious anger issues." Miranda let out a harsh laugh. "You would have loved to have seen that. Me and the old man, constantly bitching back and forth about you."

Peter remained quiet, his hand massaging circles into her calf while his eyes held a mixture of sorrow and regret. Miranda got up on her knees and put her hands on his chest.

"Peter, this has to stop. I'm fine. You're…well, you're here and _we_ are going to be okay. Okay?"

Peter closed his eyes and turned his face away from her. "I wrote you."

"What?"

"I. Wrote. You," he repeated, "Daily, for about a year, but I didn't send any. Except for one, on your twenty first birthday."

"Peter, I didn't-"

He held up a finger and maneuvered around her and went to the wall safe, punching in a series of numbers and pulling out a stack of papers, pulling a yellowed envelope out the bottom. He handed it to her with a sheepish smile.

"I thought maybe you had moved, but your _kind father_ included a letter of his own saying leave you be, more or less, that bit I did away with."

Miranda turned the return to sender stamped envelope over in her hands, sliding out a still crisp card. Standard balloons and presents with confetti across the front and a short hand written message on the inside.

_Miranda,_

_To a night you probably won't remember, with people you'll never forget, and most importantly the one who sends his love from across the miles. Wish I could be there more than anything, I miss you. Happy 21__st__._

_All my love,_

_Peter._

Miranda traced the penned words with her fingers, a sad smile on her face and a tear trailing down her cheek. "You know what I did on my twenty first birthday?" she whispered. "I went to the drug store, bought a bottle of vodka, and spent the night at your parents flat," she let out a single laugh. "Someone was finally coming to look at it the next day, Mr. Drindage had to literally drag me downstairs and sober me up before driving me home."

When she went to return the card to the envelope a picture slid out and landed on the floor. She bent down and picked it up, turning over the image of their younger-selves crammed in that god awful telephone booth. She brought a hand to her face and laughed, blinking back tears.

"That's my favorite," she sniffed with a smile.

Peter wandered over to the mantle and grabbed his wallet and flipped it open to reveal a smaller copy where his license should be. "Mine too," he said softly."

"He never told me, Peter," she said quickly, standing so she could be closer to his level, shaking her head as she spoke. "If I would have known I would have never snapped at you when I first came, I had no idea."

"I know you didn't. I just wanted to tell you, that's all." He pulled her to his chest and took a deep breath.

"Some pair we are, huh?"

"You know he did like you, once upon a time," she sighed.

"I know." Peter kissed the top of her head. "Stay with me?" His tone was so innocent, almost childlike, causing her to smile against him.

"Always, Peter," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep, Randi." His voice flat.

"Peter-" She pulled back and looked up into eyes, wanting to hit him when she saw that boyish spark in his eyes.

"Seriously though." He took her hands in his and pulled them up between them. "I know that you have a life out there, so much bigger than this; just don't for-"

Miranda had no fingers to silence him, so she did so with her mouth, catching him off guard and causing him to teeter slightly, having to grab hold her hips to steady himself.

"I promise I will never leave without one: saying goodbye, two: giving you the tag along option, or three: well…yeah, three I'll just leave up to your imagination," she winked. "Now, less talking, more sleeping."

* * *

><p>Miranda could actually remember to the day the last time she had slept in an honest to god comfortable bed, she had been twenty four and had splurged on a bed and breakfast after a successful night. Turned out she hadn't been as successful as she had thought, and she woke to the poor owner gurgling and spitting up her own blood. She had been more careful from then on out, very low profile, dingy hotels if any at all; and now here she was sinking into a lush feather pillow with a groan. Peter slid in beside her with a chuckle.<p>

"Comfy?"

"Immensely," she sighed. Wrapping herself in the silk covers, making a last minute decision to lose the shirt. If she was going to be comfortable she might as well go all out.

"Good, I might have slept most of last night, but that bed you have over there is shit." He clicked off the light by way of remote before he went to curl himself around her, not expecting to come into contact with a bare Miranda rather than a previously semi clothed one…not that he minded.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he hummed into her ear, "But I believe I was commanded to leave my shorts on in your bed."

"New bed, new rules," she breathed patting his arm while letting out a yawn. "Not shut up and let me go to bed."

_Blood, why was there so much blood? It was everywhere; on her clothes, in her hair, on her body, spilt all over the ground. Was it hers? Was it Peter's? Where was Peter? A dark shadow whisked by the only thing she was able to see was dark hair and a fleeting white pearly grin. Dimitri? She absentmindedly walked with an arm over her side, the stench of iron growing stronger as the blood soaked into the arm of her shirt. So some of it was her blood after all. _

_It was dark, she banged her hand against her UV light but it refused to stay on longer than a second or so. She took small shuffling steps until her feet hit something fleshy that let out a painful groan. She hit the light again and it flickered long enough for her to catch a glimpse of his messy brown hair and frightened wide eyes. _

"_Shit, Peter!" she quickly knelt down beside him, his breathing ragged and his body weak, a fresh bite mark on the side of his neck. "No, no, no, no, no, no," she cried, cupping his face in her hands. _

_There was a loud crack behind her and she quickly turned around, her eyes scanning the dark. He stepped out from the shadows, his smile wide and glowing._

"_Welcome to the family, Miranda."_

Miranda's body shot up, her hand over her chest and her heart beating wildly inside her body and her breathing ragged.

"A dream," she whispered to herself, "Only a dream." She closed her eyes and continued to take slow deep breaths, attempting to calm herself and slow her heart rate.

She quickly glanced over at Peter, who was miraculously still asleep; he was still asleep and she was the one who was jolted awake by some monster invading her dreams. That was new, very new, as in never happened before new. She was always a light sleeper, but not really a dreamer, let alone one to have bad dreams.

"I need a new day job," she grumbled, falling back into the comfort of the pillows and snuggled up to Peter, waiting for sleep to return.

* * *

><p>A bright light invaded her eyelids and Miranda promptly covered her head with another pillow and groaned. "What in holy hell is that?"<p>

"That thing of wonder, Miranda, is called the sun," Peter's voice cheerily replied nearby.

She regrettably removed the pillow and cracked open an eye to see him staring down at her, already dressed in his full blown Fright Night get up.

"Something's wrong," she said sitting up with a sleepy sigh. "You see I went to bed with one man, and woke up to another."

"Ah, well," he grinned, taking a seat beside her "Shame on him for leaving you alone with a terrible man like me," Peter giggled, leaning in and capturing her lips with his.

"Now it's a little weird," she laughed, playfully tugging at his fake beard.

"I didn't wake up last night, Randi. At all, that's never happened before." He let out a singular laugh and brushed the hair from her shoulder. "I have to go. Order up some breakfast, entertain yourself, and I'll see you later. Yeah?" Peter pressed a kiss to her temple and stood from the bed.

"There's some stuff I need to work on tonight, so I might be late, but I'll be here."

"How late is late?" he asked with a slight scowl.

"I'm close Peter, okay? I really need to figure this out. I promise I'll be here." She wrapped the sheet around her and went to him. "I'm not running off either, so stop glaring at me." She rubbed the length of his chest before coming to rest just below his shoulders. "Go on, before you're horribly late," she whispered with a soft smile.

Peter nodded once, and with a turn he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: AHHHH over due sex followed by emo Peter. What could be better :D I'm dying here, It's 3am, my eyeballs are literally closing. You know the drill. Yada yada, love me, yada yada ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzz**

**Shelly**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry Charlie**

She really should have ordered breakfast, enough to feed a small army just to annoy him further at the cost of being pissy; but she knew the moment the words left her mouth he would be. He'd get over it soon enough, until the shit hit the fan, then she would have a whole 'nother type of Peter to deal with.

She did however abuse the use of his shower. Showers with decent water pressure were something that came along far and few between; and his was absolute heaven. There was also the choice of a luxurious garden tub, but that would have to wait for another time, it was certainly large enough for two and oh how she enjoyed a nice bubble bath. Freshly scrubbed she grabbed the over-due birthday card from the table before leaving. She had slight reservations about taking it, he had held onto it for such a great length of time, but it had been meant for her after all and it would have brought a great amount of happiness if she would have received it compared to what her birthday was actually like. All of that fighting between her and her father, endless days and nights spent watching and waiting for Peter to show some sign of returning. Poor Mr. and Mrs. Drindage watching her fall from grace and right onto their front stoop in the pouring rain. She left a week later, caught wind of some ridiculous vampire rumors in Germany and hopped a train. Within a month she had her first kill; and from then on out it was cake. Hell, she had years to study them, she could tell guess what breed based almost on tracking patterns and regions alone. Almost. She made mistakes in her younger days, bugs she would work out along the road. But she never found the one she was looking for, and she never found Peter, and she swore not to stop until she did both.

* * *

><p>Miranda sighed and ran a hand through the length of her hair, she hated leaving him on such crappy terms, and she had to at least try to make it somewhat better. She took the elevator to the bottom floor and walked through the casino and into the theater. He was already yelling at everyone and shoving equipment out of the way. She chuckled and shook her head at the sight of it.<p>

"Oh Peter," she whispered.

"No, I'm Tom, we've been through this," a voice quipped from behind her, causing her to jump and spin around. "Afternoon, Ms. Cooper, here to tame the beast?"

Miranda glanced back at the stage just in time to see the tail of his coat catch fire and him rip it off, stomp it out and toss it angrily at some helpless stage hand.

"All morning?" she asked with a grimace.

"Oh yeah. I think that man was born in a bad mood." Tom folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall.

"No," she softly her tone filled with grief. "He really wasn't. Once upon a time, Peter was-" she paused, letting her eyes slip close for a second and took a breath. "He was one of the happiest people I knew."

"What happened?"

She shook her head, "Long story and not mine to tell."

The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk. "Fair enough." Tom jerked his head towards the stage. "Come on."

Peter was arguing with a woman off to the side of the stage when they approached. She was a bit older than him, and holding her own, but still visibly upset that he was having it out with her.

"What do you mean fucking lost? We have half a dozen black strait jackets and you mean to tell me you can't find a single one!"

"Lost is lost," she said raising her hands. "Wardrobe is working on getting new ones but all they can manage to find are beige not black."

"Does it look like I do beige you stupid cow?" he berated slapping his chest.

"Stop losing them and it won't be a problem," she sneered. "We will dye them and your precious act will go on without a hitch."

"In three fucking hours? You couldn't find your ass in three hours!"

"Peter!" Miranda came up from behind and placed a hand on the small of his back.

"What?!" he snapped, his eyes instantly softening slightly when he saw it was Miranda and not some stage hand invading his personal space.

"Stop," she mouthed watching as the lady he was arguing with let her jaw hang open in a state of shocking amusement.

Peter stared at her for few moments, saying nothing, turned back to the wardrobe woman and raised a finger. "Fix it," he commanded and then marched through the curtains and out the back door.

"I thought you were too busy for me today," he scowled after the door closed behind her and they were alone in the hall.

Miranda rolled her eyes and sighed. "I didn't say that, Peter. I said I needed to work on some stuff tonight; and I really hated leaving with you on such pissy terms."

He turned to face her, slight smirk on his face. "I'm always pissy,"

"I know," she smiled, "I believe that green shit that runs in your veins may have something to do with that."

Peter ran a hand down his face taking a few steps forward so he was in front of her. "You said you were close. Does that mean you'll be leaving soon?" he asked his eyes narrowed in concern.

"Peter I told you-"

"Yes or no, Miranda it's a simple fucking question!" he barked.

"I don't know," she snapped back, her tone just as harsh. "Right now, at this second I honestly don't know."

Peter closed his eyes and turned, walking away down the hall.

She really hated lying to him, but there was no fucking way she was about to tell Peter that close meant right in his damned neighborhood. So yeah, she lied; for his own good, and hopefully she could get this done quickly before it turned into something really bad.

"But if I did, Peter I'd come back. I'll always come back to you," she called out; and that part she meant. If for some reason she did have to leave she would come back, without a doubt.

Peter stopped mid step and spun slowly on his heel. Miranda closed the space between them until it was less than a foot and she had to stretch her neck to look up at him.

"If you'll have me," she uttered.

Peter gently took her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down and taking her lips in a soft sweet kiss.

"Miranda Cooper, _that_," he kissed her again, "will never be a problem."

Her hands traced came up to rest on his forearms and she let her head fall on his chest. "I should let you get back," she whispered. She sighed and pulled away; slipping the plastic key card she had received from the security guard from her pocket and handing it to him.

"You'll be needing that," he nodded. "There's only two now, that one and mine, well, and one for security reasons, but that one is as good as yours."

"Is that all it takes, just one night with you to get a key?" her voice thick with sarcasm as a smile tugged at her lips.

"You should see what I give up after a month," he winked flashing that million watt grin. "Come on, I'll see you out."

He led her back through the theater ignoring the stares and whispers they were receiving. His hand rest gently on the small of her back and her shoulder pressed snug under his arm as they walked. Everything was different with her, so easy, he didn't have to try it just came naturally. He genuinely wanted to be better when he was around her. He walked her to the exit and she turned to face him with smile in her eyes. If someone had said she had just past forty nobody would believe it, she hardly looked as if she was in her thirties. Perhaps that bite had something to do with that as well, she'd definitely aged better out of the two of them.

"You should at least try to be nicer to them, Peter. Maybe they would return the favor," she grinned.

"Or they'd die of shock," he laughed. He bent down and pressed a kiss high on her cheek. "See you later?"

"Yeah," she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze and slipping out the doors.

* * *

><p>She tossed her coat over the chair and went over to the bed where the coma-esque Dimitri still lied still. She gave his shoulders a light shake, followed by a harder shove and finally some light smacks to the cheek.<p>

"Dimitri!"

Nothing. His head lulled to the side when she attempted to shake him once again and with that she threw up her hands in defeat. This was just plain ridiculous, he should have told her this little tid-bit of family history before she came all the way over here with a sack full of weapons.

Another family had been reported missing in the last twenty four hours; how many more did he really need? She really didn't want to think about that, she hoped that they were still weak and easy enough to kill if it came down to that. Hopefully, if she could help it, she would be able to save who she could, depending on where he was keeping himself hidden.

Miranda knew it had to have been somewhere residential, someplace where he could weasel himself in and out of people's lives so innocently. Most people are kind in nature; especially Vegas house wives who find themselves in close proximity to a good looking new neighbor with an in explainable charm. The trick was to find out if he actually had some type of identity scam running or if he was squatting in an abandoned home. Neither one made it any easier. Each of the families was taken from different neighborhoods, at different times, nothing in common. The bastard was damn clever.

She pulled out her bag from the closet and dug out a few dusty old books, flopping herself down in a nearby chair and flipping one open. She didn't even know what she was looking for at this point, hopelessly grasping at straws, seeing as she knew all her books from front to back, both in Latin as well as in English. There was nothing left for her to learn, he would continue to build his army and once he caught wind of Dimitri's scent and his attachment to her he would not be happy. Dimitri's purpose in death was to bond with his victims, he didn't necessarily need to take their life but would if need be; while the current head of Damiri house was nothing but a killing machine. He saw each one of them as food and then a potential member for his new fast growing family. He'd want her dead and she feared it wouldn't be to join his ranks; it would be purely for the sake of breaking his brother's bond. And that was a whole 'nother matter in its self. How did two brothers end up changed and in two different races…by choice none the less. She had never seen such a thing before.

There was a sharp trilling from the phone in her pocket and she was surprised to see Peter's number flashing on the screen.

"Forty minutes to show-time, you must really-"

"Are they here, Miranda? In fucking Nevada? Is that what you meant by you were close? Is it him? Is he fucking here!?" Peter flew into a slew of words as soon as she started to speak.

She had the sinking feeling that things just turned really, really fucking bad. Or were well on their way.

"Peter, Peter, slow down. What's wrong?" Miranda sucked in her bottom lip and let her books fall to the floor.

"Some fucking kid came up here, telling me how his friend disappeared and his fucking neighbor, Jerry, was a vampire. A kid, Randi, a mother fucking kid."

He was ranting and rambling, muttering half his words. Angry, afraid, well past the point of drunk; Peter was on the verge of a breaking point.

"Peter, I need you to breathe," she stated into the receiver, taking a deep breath herself.

"I need you to answer me, now!" he yelled.

She swallowed, her heart skipping a beat. "It's possible, yes; vampires are everywhere, Peter, most of them you would never even know. They're not all bad."

Peter remained silent on the other end.

"Peter…Peter are you there?"

"How can you say that," he whispered. "After what he did to me."

Miranda sighed, pulling at her hair. "Because of what I've seen. You can't learn everything from books, Peter. What did you tell him?"

"What do you think? I told him monsters don't exist, especially here, scooping up school kids in Clark County, Nevada," he growled into the phone.

"Look, we don't know how long this has been going on, if they are here or how many. Go, do the show, and I'll be there tonight." Miranda nervously tapped her foot on the carpet waiting for him to say something, anything in return.

"Ginger was supposed to come get her things after the show," he finally muttered.

"Okay, whatever, I'll still be there," she puffed out her cheeks. "Did he leave you his number?"

"Are you serious? Miranda, you have got to be kidding me?"

"I need to talk to him," she stated plainly, "The more I know, Peter, the easier I can get this done."

Peter sighed, "Yeah, I'll send it to you."

"Thank you. Now go get ready, keep your head clear and I'll be there as soon as I can."

The line went dead and she resisted the urge to toss her phone against the wall. Why were school kids going to him to begin with? The phone chirped again in her hand with a text message from Peter. The name Charlie followed by a telephone number. She dialed the number, pacing as it rang and rang and rang, until a young boy answered.

"Helloo?"

"Charlie? My name is Miranda Cooper; I'm a friend of Peter Vincent's. We should talk."

* * *

><p>She set up to meet with him at a small train car diner outside the strip, casually sipping a rum and coke as she waited for him to arrive. The bell above the door rang and a skinny kid with curly hair and weary eyes walked in, scanning the booths in desperation. Miranda raised a finger and shook it in his direction and he hurried over and slid across from her.<p>

"You're a friend of Peter Vincent?" he asked with unsure eyes scanning over her plain Jane blue jeans paired with a tank top and a messy bun.

"Not what you were expecting?" she asked with a smirk.

"You're…normal."

"I'm far from normal, kid," she chuckled. "Now, tell me what you know."

Charlie folded his hands and leaned over the table, looking around to make sure nobody was listening in. "My neighbor, Jerry, he's a vampire."

"Jerry," she laughed, "What a fantastic name. And how do you know this, Charlie? Is he allergic to garlic? Not like going to church with everyone else on Sunday?"

Charlie shook his head while scrunching up his face. "My friend, Ed, he's missing. He had all these files…videos, of Jerry, or rather not Jerry seeing as he didn't show up on video. He's been watching him for months; he's the one who wanted to go to Peter originally."

"Why Peter?"

"It's all over his website. You know, because he is an expert in dark forces and everything that has to do with vampires and all that shit."

Miranda groaned and rubbed her temples. "All right, what else."

"He took my neighbor, Doris, out on a date. Later that night I heard a scream, so…"

"Oh no, Charlie, you didn't," she sighed hanging her head in her hands. "Why would you go in there?"

"She's my neighbor, I was concerned," Charlie hissed, "What was I supposed to do?"

"Most people call the police," Miranda lulled sarcastically.

"Would they have come? If I would have told them what was going on they would have laughed and you know it." Charlie argued, fear and confusion budding in his youthful eyes.

She remembered when she had been that young, oh so long ago, her best friend telling her a vampire had just killed his parents with the same look in his eyes.

"All right," she said softly, "Please go on."

"I heard him coming, so I hid in the closet. Crazy bastard has it filled with all kinds of different uniforms so he can fit in just about anywhere he goes. Anyway, the back opened up to some sort of hall way lined with rooms; that's where he was keeping her. I tried to pick the lock, but he came back and I hid in one of the open doors. And then he…well you know." Charlie took two fingers and tapped the inside of his neck and scrunched up his face.

"He fed," Miranda stated.

"Yea. But I tried to save her! When he was gone I tried to help her escape," he cried out.

Miranda placed a finger over her lips signaling him to lower his voice. "Charlie, there was nothing you could do," she whispered.

"I know that! The moment we got out side, just when I thought I had done something good, that everything was going to be okay, she…she…" Charlie closed his eyes and turned his head towards the wall, taking a deep breath. "Everywhere, it…it was everywhere. Ash and blood, just like that she was gone," he choked out, his red glossy eyes finally turning back to meet hers.

"I'm sorry; no one should have to witness such a thing." Miranda reached a hand out and gently covered one of his in an attempt to comfort the poor kid.

"Can you help me?" he asked with a shaky breath.

"I think so, Charlie." She stood up and knocked back the rest of her drink, giving him a reaffirmed pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure as fuck going to try."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:Hey look guys, it's Charlie! So...the end is near :( I'm going to try to stretch it out and add some...maybe a good bit of stuff. Off to bed now, you know the drill. **

**Goodnight my lovlies!**

**Shelly**


	18. Chapter 18

**Knotted**

Miranda rushed back to her hotel room, bolting the door behind her and placing one of the chairs securely under the door handle. She drug her weapon pack from the closet and began to quickly scan what might come in handy for light traveling. He wouldn't make a big move, not yet, but she needed to be prepared just in case she ran into something unexpected. She grabbed her shoulder holster and slid her arms through, tightening the strap across her chest and securing a hand gun on each side. The bullets held a special tip filled with holy water, not enough to kill, but certainly enough to wound and buy some time. She wrapped another belt around her body, filling the slots with a handful of stakes and her knife. She pulled a small oak box from the bottom of her bag and lifted a small cross on a sliver chain from it. She knew it was a silly gesture, it only worked if you believed and she honestly wasn't sure if she did anymore, but she slid it over her head none the less, tucking it safely inside her shirt.

There was a slight rustle coming from the bed and Miranda's hand reflexively went to her belt, her fingers wrapping around the smooth polished metal base of one of her stakes. Crouched down, she peered around the chair to see a pair of groggy green eyes staring back at her. She sighed and re-secured her weapon.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," she quipped with a tilt of her head.

"I can't move," Dimitri complained his voice dry and hoarse.

Miranda went to the fridge and pulled out a small bag of blood, drained it into a cup and sunk a coffee stirrer into it.

"Sorry, no straws," she smirked, sitting next to him on the bed. "And don't worry, this bag's clean, I promise. You'll be up and about soon enough."

She helped him lift his head so he could drink until his cup was empty; his head falling back onto the pillow with a disgruntled sigh.

"Fucking vegetarians."

"Yeah, well, that's what you've got. No people while I'm on board and you made it quite clear you don't want any of mine."

Dimitri scanned her over with his eyes, blinking slowly. "You really don't want to do this, Cooper. You have no Idea how his mind works."

"I've been doing this a long time, Dimitri," she scoffed, setting the glass on the night stand and standing from the bed. A strong hand came down quickly on her arm and held her in place.

"You're smart, and I'll give you credit where credit is due, but he is so much different than anything you have ever dealt with, you have to believe me. There is a reason he is the last one," he practically growled.

"But he's not is he? There's you," she grunted as she tried to tug out of his grip.

"I'm not like him. You know that I'm different!" His grip tightened around her wrist, he could feel his strength slowly starting to spread throughout his body.

"How exactly? What happened to you Dimitri? What's your story?" There was no point in trying to get away, so she threw up her guard and attacked his; which may not have been such a bright idea.

His lush emerald green eyes began to shift to black, he tugged her closer and she fell to the bed; her body colliding with his and he quickly released her wrist and secured his arm around her so she couldn't move. He smirked and drew his tongue over his teeth exposing his fangs with a wide grin.

"I could make you so happy, Miranda," he whispered hotly. He brushed a curl out of her face with his other hand; it was all she could do to keep a straight face while the shivers shot up and down her spine.

"The things I could give you, what we could do for each other," he continued, his fingers coming to rest on the quickening pulse at the side of her neck.

"You could have it all." He lifted his head and pressed a feather light kiss to her neck and her heart skipped a beat. "Or, I could just take it, right now…if I wanted." His head came back into view and he was staring at her with dark hungry eyes, his chest heaving in time with hers.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking his head and when his eyes met hers once more they were their normal color and a grin was tugging at his lips.

"But I'm different, I only feed when needed or when asked. And you'll never ask, Miranda, no matter how much I tempt you," he smiled sadly, "Your heart, belongs to another."

"Fine," she quipped, "Can you let me go now? I really have to go."

"You cannot do this, not on your own and I am not ready," he said with a shake of his head, still not releasing her.

"I'm not waiting, Dimitri. It's not just Peter anymore, that kid is going to get himself killed!"

"People die every die, Miranda," he said nonchalantly rolling his eyes.

"Let me go!" She struggled against his arms.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that." He adjusted himself so he was holding her down with the one arm once more and slid the other hand in her holster and removed one of her guns. "And I apologize in advance for this as well."

"What are you-" she glanced up just in time to see his arm coming down at her with the butt of her gun before her world went black.

* * *

><p>She blinked at the blurred overhead lights groaning as the room slowly came into focus. She was on the couch with her hands and feet bound with a section of bed sheet. Well, this was something new. Held hostage by a vampire in order to protect her from another vampire.<p>

Her head was pounding, she was sure she would have a small lump under her hair line if she didn't have one already. She sat up and saw Dimitri sitting on the bed; flipping through her notebooks.

"Untie me," she demanded.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, not even a please. Where _are_ your manners, Cooper," he smirked.

"Oh I'm sorry, they left right about the time you tried to seduce, bite, and then knocked me out," she snapped. "Now untie me. If I have to find a way out myself I'm going to be very crabby."

Dimitri shut the book with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Hey now, I apologized for that, but I can't let you go, my legs aren't quite up to par."

Miranda spotted her backpack a few feet from the couch and casually rolled onto the floor with a thud.

"Fuck!" she cried out in mock pain.

"You're only making it worse, Miranda," Dimitri mumbled from the bed. She could hear him flipping the pages of some new source of reading material now and quickly slid over to her bag and slowly undid the zipper, slipping her hand inside until it closed around the base of a small pocket knife. She crawled back to the couch with a smile, climbing up and began to slice away at the sheet while keeping her body still and her eyes on the bed.

"They could all be dead by now, Dimitri," she scowled.

"He won't leave without paying me a visit, we'll go tomorrow, I'll be right as rain by sundown," he lulled, not even bothering to look, so cocky in his ability to bind her.

The sheet gave way with a slight snap and his head perked up, but she had already made a move for her gun and had it pointed at him before he could move five feet from the bed.

"I will fucking shoot you and you know it! It might not kill you but it will certainly hurt like hell," she barked, pulling back the hammer and taking a step forward.

Dimitri eyed her carefully. "If you shoot me directly there is a chance it will break our connection, you do know that will fuck me up right?" he questioned quietly, concern filling his both his features and his voice.

"Oh, I'm quite aware of what it will do. That's how important this is to me and that's why you are going to let me go." She gave her gun a small shake towards the bed and he sat down slowly and raised his hands in surrender.

"Atta boy." Miranda kept her gun on him while she pulled her holster back on and her belt, re-equipping herself as it were, as Dimitri watched with disapproving eyes.

"I'll find you, when I'm able."

"I know." She lowered her gun with a sigh. "I'm sorry; I really didn't want to get you involved you know."

Dimitri smirked. "Yes you did, you always know exactly what you're doing."

She nodded solemnly and with a small wave she was out the door.

* * *

><p>She got a chill when she stepped out the cab in front of the building, everything was so eerily quiet and still. She walked through the doors and made her way into the lobby, turning her head at the sight of the mangled security lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. Neck snapped and fed from not long ago by someone quite fierce.<p>

"Shit," she whispered, stepping around him. The sun would be up soon enough, that would take care of the body; she had bigger things to tend to.

She stepped into the elevator and found a plastic key card already secured in the penthouse slot. Her heart fluttered. Not good, not good at all. She rode to the top, guns at the ready, pressed hard against the side wall when the doors slid open. Miranda slowly slid out into the hall; the door was already open, Ginger's body sprawled half in and half out in the same manner as the guard downstairs.

"Where the fuck are you Peter?" she said under her breath, stepping around the body and into the foyer.

Broken glass was everywhere.

Glass mixed with blood and a stampede of footprints in every direction. A great deal of his displays were shattered and on the floor, the cup that once held holy water was now tossed aside and a mace was lying beside a great pile of ash and bone. At least there was one sign of good news in this horrid mess.

She kept moving, eyes always on the move and with quiet steps until she had reached the sitting area, creeping her way behind the bar. Everything was so quiet, so empty, where the hell was he. Her eyes found a splash of blood on the wall, blood that _sank_ into the wall. She went closer and felt along the edges, laughing to herself as she felt the cool steel that blended in so well with the rest of the décor.

Of course he had a damned panic room.

Miranda banged on the door with the hilt of her gun. "Peter! Peter, it's me, open the door."

She waited in silence, getting no response what so ever.

"Peter!" She tried again.

More deafening moments of silence and slowly her heart began to break. It was then she heard a faint beeping and the door slid open, revealing a shaking Peter sitting on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest next to an all familiar green bottle. Broken and afraid and worst off he had been alone after she had promised she would be there.

"Oh fuck," she sighed, holstering her guns and dropping down in front of him. "Peter, look at me," she brushed the hair from his face and he stared blankly back at her with glazed eyes, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he choked out a cry and fell into her.

"Ginger-" he began.

"Shh, I know," she soothed, running a hand up and down his back.

"Where were you?" he whispered, his breath warm on her neck.

"I got a little…tied up," she said with a grimace, "But I'm here now, and I'm not leaving until this is done."

"Look at me," Peter scoffed, "Grown man cowering in fear." He pulled back and wiped his face, frowning at her. "And I've went and gotten blood all over your shirt."

"It happens," she whispered with a smile. "Why here? Why now though? It doesn't make any sense."

"I called that fucking kid, Charlie. That picture he gave me, it was the same one from when we were kids, so I called him up here to tell him what I knew-" Peter dug around in the pocket of his robe for his cigarettes before successfully finding one and lighting one up.

"What picture?"

"You know," he waved a hand around, "the clan one from that book."

Miranda slapped him in the shoulder with the back of her hand. "You didn't mention a fucking picture before, Peter!"

"I didn't look at it before, Miranda," he snapped, "Fuck." His eyes scanned all the monitors, freezing on Gingers body longingly for a few moments before he stood up. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Why didn't you call, Peter? If you knew it was him why didn't you fucking call?!" she stomped after him.

Peter spun around and lowered his face so it was level with hers. "I did call you, Miranda, but you didn't answer your bloody phone. When I needed you most, you weren't fucking there," he growled.

"I needed you for the past twenty four years, Peter! You were the one to walk away. Don't forget that," she snapped right back not missing a beat in between.

Peter closed his eyes and sighed. "Randi, I don't want to fight, I just want him gone. I can only run for so long."

"Soon… he'll be gone soon," she said with a soft smile, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

Peter nodded and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Be out in a bit, yeah?"

"Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh you know what I need XD**


	19. Chapter 19

**Pressing on**

"Fuck." Miranda passed a hand over her face, falling back against the cool marble wall. The penthouse was an absolute wreck; and once more she was left to pick up the pieces while Peter sulked. Not exactly the best feeling of déjà vu she had ever experienced.

She had to move Ginger. That was number one.

It was bad enough that he was locked in that room for god knows how long being forced to see her body on that screen; he didn't need to see it when he came out. She also couldn't take any chances that some part of her was left alive. Miranda pulled her body out into the hall and gently rolled her over onto a spare sheet, frowning sadly down at her frail broken body.

"I probably would have liked you," she whispered. "You were one of the few that took his shit and he admired you for that. Shame you never knew."

She reached out a hand and covered the woman's eyes, pulling them closed with a stroke. Miranda let out a heavy sigh and swallowed hard as her fingers slowly tightened around the base of a stake on her hip. She hated this part, she truly did. When they were already changed and trying to kill you, sure no problem, but lying hopeless when it was done on chance that they could come back and they still looked so…innocent; that is what killed her the most. To make it worse, here it was someone Peter had cared for. If she would have been there perhaps Ginger wouldn't have been hurt at all.

She raised her weapon and held it steady. "I'm sorry, Ginger."

Miranda exhaled and brought her hand down, swiftly hitting her target. She turned her face away as the body quickly flared and dissolved into a pile of ash and bone. She rolled up the sheet and dragged it into the corner of the hall. She'd find time to dispose of it later, along with the rest of the mess; she doubted Peter had a giant push broom handy.

She walked back in to find Peter, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing a towel against his head.

"You alright," she asked quietly, slipping off her holsters and the belt, letting them drop to the floor.

"I've been better," he replied with a sigh, tossing the towel aside and giving her a weak smile.

Miranda approached him and stepped between his legs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Peter rested his cheek against her, his own arms holding her tight. She let her hands run through his hair as they held each other in silence, his breath warm against her.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here, Peter." She pressed a kiss to his head and her breathing shuddered slightly when she tried to hold back the tears that were beginning to sting the backs of her eyes.

"Randi, don't." Peter pulled away and cradled her face in his hands. "Don't you dare apologize; I should be the one apologizing for being such an arse."

Miranda shook her head. "But I could have helped, Peter. Ginger might still be alive if I would have been here!"

"But you might not be. Truth of the matter is, Miranda, I still would have locked myself up in that room and I know you wouldn't have come with me unless I dragged you kicking and screaming." He hung his head for a moment and took a breath. "I wouldn't have been able to handle seeing your body up on those monitors, for that, I am grateful you _weren't _here." He pulled her face to him, pressing several hurried kisses to her lips before indulging in a lingering one; pulling her onto the bed with him.

She smiled and pushed the hair from his face and he caught the inside of her palm in a kiss when it came back down.

"Did you see him?" she whispered sucking in her bottom lip.

Peter shook his head and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. "No," he replied softly.

"Him being in Vegas could have been a coincidence, Peter. But I'm sure he's picked up on you by now, and if he hadn't, well tonight Charlie handed you to him on a silver platter." Miranda sighed, "No matter, I have to go in today, and then it's done."

"We could just go," he suggested with bright eyes. "Take off and leave, you and me, I've survived this long on my own, I'm sure we could continue on for another thirty years."

"No, I'm not running." Her answer was firm, her eyes remained unblinking as she stared at him and placed a hand on his chest.

"I'm not going to stay here and watch you die, Randi. I can't do that. I won't do it." He closed his hand over hers as he spoke.

"You won't have to." She sat up, kissing his cheek before she left the bed. "I'm going to try to get the blood out of this shirt, and most likely steal one of yours."

"Yeah, help yourself," Peter muttered, running his hands through his hair.

"Everything's going to be fine, Pete. You have to trust me."

"Yeah, okay." He sat up, his eyes finding hers, lines of worry and regret tracing the curves of his face.

"What?"

Peter got up and crossed the room, cupping her cheek and bent down to press a lingering kiss on her lips. "Nothing," he whispered against her, kissing her once more, before giving her a sad smile and turning to leaving the room.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It wasn't the blood that was bothering her, she dealt with blood a lot, so much that it was practically just another part of daily life. No, it was the smell that had sunken in. His smell that had managed to fill the penthouse and sink into her clothes. He might not have been the one to kill Ginger, but he was definitely there. She pulled off her shirt and shook off most of the ash and whatever else was clinging to it into the shower before dousing it with some peroxide. She filled the sink and watched as her shirt began to sink to the bottom of the basin. The water didn't turn quite pink, she'd describe it more as a medium well, that color just around the edges of a steak where the meat was starting to grey. It churned her stomach thinking that pieces of Ginger were floating in there, and she quickly shook the thought away and flushed some clean water over her face. She rinsed and wrung out her shirt and tossed it over the shower to dry, then went in search of a replacement.

She plucked out a band shirt from his dresser, holding it to her face momentarily; even his clean clothes held the faint smell of cloves. She smirked and pulled it over her head, not surprised that it was a little tight in the top and cleared her bottom. Miranda swiftly slid on her holster and fastened the belt around her waist, preparing for the inevitable. She wandered over to the window; the sun was rising in the distance, not that you could really see it through all the buildings, but the sky was beginning to light up from afar. She had to go soon; maybe she could convince Peter into waiting at the hotel or something, he obviously had no intentions of tagging along.

Miranda ran her hands through her hair before pulling it up on top of her head; freezing when she heard mumbled voices coming from the other room. Quietly, she pulled open the bedroom door and crept down the hallway, making sure her body stayed pressed up against the wall.

"So come with me, we'll go in at dawn. He's got to rest sometime."

_Was that…Charlie? Charlie had come back here looking for Peter's help yet again, poor kid, _ she thought to herself.

"No, no, no," Peter laughed lightly. "The only reason I survived last time was because I had the sense to hide."

"Oh is that what you call it," Miranda uttered under her breath.

"Look, you want to be a dead hero, good for you. I'm out." Peter continued.

Charlie scoffed.

"You think I'm a coward, I'm not. I'm a realist." He finished, followed by the clinking of a bottle being poured into a glass.

Miranda dared to sneak closer to the edge, catching a glimpse of Peter topping off his drink.

"So you just bail on people?" Charlie retorted.

Peter raised his glass in mock salute and Miranda nearly collapsed. Was he really going to leave? Her eyes caught sight of the bags by the chair and it took everything she had to stay right where she was as opposed to exploding in on them.

"Hey I get it, my dad was like that, but I don't want to live to tomorrow if you're the kind of man I'm gonna be." Charlie said in a hushed tone, shaking his head and turning to leave.

"Hang on, wait," Peter called him back, a stake held out in his hand. "Blessed by Saint Michael. You kill your vampire with this; it's supposed to change his victims back." He placed it inside a leather casing and handed it over to Charlie. "Maybe you can still save your girlfriend."

"If it's for real," Charlie muttered, turning the item over.

"Got a plan?" Peter asked crossing his arms, "There's no guarantee he'll be sleeping and to stake him you got to get close." He hung his head in a moment of thought actually searching for some way to help this poor kid.

"Torch him. A vampire on fire is not thinking clearly."

Miranda laughed, genuinely surprised that out of all the things that is what he remembered, some fire ploy out of that stupid book.

"If he's on fire, how do I get close enough to stake him?" Charlie asked and she could hear the small grin in his voice.

"Fuck," Peter breathed, his eyes quickly moving around the room.

"I'm coming with you," Miranda finally spoke up and stepped into the room.

"Miranda?" Charlie's eyebrows arched and his look bounced back and forth between her and Peter.

"Hello, Charlie," she smiled softly as she walked passed him. "Not exactly how I planned our next meeting, but we'll have to make do."

Peter's eyes widened and locked onto hers as she made a bee line towards him. She glanced down at his bags and then back at him, holding his gaze for a few moments before turning away. She had no words for him; he knew very well how she felt after he left the first time and here he was running off again. The only difference was this time he had planned on doing it without telling her.

"Miranda-" Peter coaxed softly, grabbing hold of her hand as she stepped away.

She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat before swinging around and letting her hand land hard on his cheek.

He didn't say anything, not a profanity was uttered; he just stood there blinking slowly and hanging his head low.

"You're so wrong Peter," she finally whispered, causing him to glance back up at her with reddened eyes. "Charlie didn't think of you as a coward, Christ he came to you for help! The only person who thinks you're a coward, Peter is you. Even when I should, I don't, because I know better." She paused and blinked away the tears in her eyes taking a shaking breath. "What I do…what I don't understand is why you would do this to me all over again? How could you? Because I wouldn't be able to just up and forget about you. Not then, not now, not ever."

Peter took breath and wiped his face. "Randi, I-"

"But I guess that the difference between you and me, Peter. I grew up the day you left; a harsh kick in the face of reality; and you stayed that scared little boy. Building this huge wall around yourself." She went up on tip toe and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Sometimes I wish I didn't love you do damn much," she whispered, returning to the floor and quickly composing herself.

Peter let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he watched her walk away, patting Charlie on the back and heading towards the door. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but she was right in every sense of the word; he was a coward, and he knew it. He was going to run, but not forever, he just couldn't be here for this, he was going to call her in a day or so and let her know and everything would have worked out. Sure she still would have been pissed, but manageably so. Then Charlie showed up before he could get out.

"Miranda, wait," he called after her.

She spun around on her heel. "I've waited my whole life Peter!" she snapped at him, tears streaming out the corners of her eyes. Her voice dropped down to a whisper. "I'm tired of waiting. Goodbye, Peter."

He watched, silently screaming inside as she walked out the door. He poured himself another drink and quickly drained the glass, followed by another and one more. He stood there tediously tapping the glass against the marble counter top, faster and faster until he finally grasped the tumbler in his fist and sent it flying into the wall.

"Fuck!"

He couldn't bear to lose her, not after only just getting her; it wasn't an option.

* * *

><p>.<p>

They had taken Charlie's mother's car; it was a bit beaten up but in good condition considering what he told her they had gone through. She directed him back to the hotel; if she was going into his turf she would need a lot more fire power.

"Sooo, you and Peter Vincent," Charlie drawled out. "I always pictured his as sort of a man whore."

Miranda shot him a look through thin lips and narrowed eyes.

"But I'm sure you two make a lovely couple," he nodded quickly with a forced smile.

"We have a history; he wasn't always like that believe it or not."

"His parents?"

Miranda's eyes wandered over to him again but she said nothing.

"Sorry, it's just…he mentioned it…so I assumed…sorry." Charlie let out a puff of air and kept his eyes straight ahead.

"I was there. Well, not actually there, but for the aftermath, and beforehand. We were close," she smiled and shook her head, running a hand over her face. "He's so different and yet still the same."

"But you love him, you've always loved him."

"I'm starting to think it's a curse. Maybe I'll take Dimitri up on that offer after all," she sighed.

"Dimitri?" Charlie asked with an arched brow.

"Never mind," she shook her head. "Pull over here."

They pulled into the parking lot and Miranda hopped out the car. "Wait here," she commanded as she shut the door and jogged off in the direction of her room. She slid the key into the slot and slid the door open quickly attempting to keep most of the sun out; which was pointless because her room was empty.

"Dimitri," she called out, scanning the room. Nothing, nowhere to be found. She even checked in the damned closet and under the bed. "Where the hell did he go?" she muttered to herself.

She carefully wrapped two straps around her shoulder holsters that contained even more stakes, and added one more to her back that held a modified shotgun. Another personal favorite of hers. She carefully attached the stake and bake to the belt at her hip and threw on a trench to cover her for the time being. She jumped slightly at the sound of the phone going off and her pocket. Miranda frowned at the sight of Peter's number flashing across the screen and debated whether to answer it or not. With a shaky hand she slid her thumb across the decline symbol, silenced her phone and went back to the car.

"I need to go see my mom," Charlie whispered, his eyes reddened and tired. "You know, just in case."

Miranda patted his arm, and gave him a sad smile. "Of course, Charlie. We should wait until the sun is fully up anyhow."

* * *

><p>She waited in the car while Charlie went and sat with his mother at the hospital, debating whether or not to call her dad. It was the same battle she fought each time, sometimes she gave in and called, never saying why she was calling; just a quick hello and a how are you, but it was always just to hear his voice one last time. And now she was making trying to make the same decision in-between ducking calls from Peter. She really wanted to answer that phone call, his presence was a constant need in her life. His voice, even if it was pissing her off at the moment would bring her a small amount of peace. But still she refused, it'd be a distraction, she wouldn't survive with distractions.<p>

So she did neither. No dad, no Peter. She was in this alone. Well, she had Charlie…who was fresh out of the gate, but she supposed that was better than nothing.

* * *

><p>Charlie came back to the car and drove them to a local armynavy surplus store; Miranda followed doubtfully inside.

"Seriously?" she scoffed

"What? You think that little stake I got from Peter will actually work?" he asked with a hushed voice.

Miranda held out her arms and waved them over her body.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. I'd show you, but I'm a little restricted at the moment," she quipped. "Besides it will work a hell of a lot better than that cross bow."

"I'll have you know, cross bows can be super effective bring down a target," Charlie argued.

"This isn't a fucking deer, Charlie. I'm telling you it's too slow."

"And I'm telling you it's not."

"Fine, what do I know?" Miranda rolled her eyes. "Here, take this." She shoved a fire retardant suit in his hands and some goggles.

"For what?"

She wiggled her head slightly before bringing her hands together and then forcing them apart while making a _whooshing_ sound.

"I'm sorry, what?"

She groaned and grabbed a thing of lighter fluid off the shelf and added it to the pile. "Get close, Charlie. Peter managed to give you that bit of useful advice."

"You expect me to-"

"Yes! I do. You're going in there to get your girlfriend; he's going to be focused on you. I'll handle the others…and there will be a lot of them. Now let's go."

We approached the counter and Charlie tossed his items up at the attendant who eyed us suspiciously.

"We're gonna kill a vampire," Charlie said soundly.

Miranda buried her face in her hands and attempted to smile at the man whose looks of suspicion vanished and he was now looking at them as if they were just plain crazy.

"Good for you," the man replied with an awkward nod as we left the store.

"Real smooth, Charlie, real smooth," Miranda scoffed as they got back into the car.

"Yeah, well what did you want me to say, it's not like he believed me."

* * *

><p>.<p>

The rest of their ride was quiet. Miranda waited as Charlie geared up outside the house, nervously bouncing on her heels and chewing on her bottom lip. Twenty four years she had waited for this moment and now that it was here she was a basket of nerves, both excitedly so and scared to death.

"Ready?" he asked, giving the belt at his waist a final tug.

"As I'll ever be," she nodded, twirling off her coat.

Charlie's eyes widened slightly, looking over her a more than a few times before clearing his throat.

"Time to finish this," she muttered, sauntering away towards the house; into the unknown.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N:It's coming! We are sooo close that I can taste it...and its so yummy! I made an adorable Peter/Miranda manip of them in his penthouse, there is a link on my profile...go look at it, go ahead I'll wait because its that fucking cute. Also the new cover for my fic so you can see it there, but it's so small there :( so go look at the big one. Anyway. It's a normal time of day update YAY! And for once I do actually plan on getting started straight away on the next one because I have a nagging Peter in my brain...or that could be my nerves...either way its annoying. You know the drill. Read it, review it, love it!**

**Shelly.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Going Down**

Charlie kicked the door in and began to quickly scan the house, frustratingly knocking out the windows with the butt end of his cross bow. Miranda shook her head and rolled her eyes at his armature-ness.

"Well, let's not rush through this, shall we," she barked out.

Charlie turned to her and held a finger over his lips.

"No sense in that when you're making enough racket to raise the dead." She paused cocking her head, "No pun intended." She picked up a baseball bat that was on the floor and busted the window that was next to her. "Missed one," she sneered. "Where was that closet?"

"Upstairs," he replied curtly.

"Then it's up we go," she replied nodding towards the stairs. Swiftly removing the rifle from her back and following him up. "Move slowly, and keep quiet," she whispered.

* * *

><p>They parted ways at the top, just to be safe she wanted to make sure the floor was clear. She was in his territory now, he had the upper hand and she was sure he knew they were coming if he didn't already know they were there.<p>

She froze at every creak the floor boards made, every cool breeze that past her cheek. He was toying with her. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew they were there now; at this point he was simply playing with his supper.

"Amy!" she heard Charlie call from across the house.

"Fucking idiot!" she mumbled to herself.

"Amy!" he called again and then once more.

"He's going to get us killed," she groaned, making her way back to him.

"Charlie!" a girl's voice answered him and Miranda froze. That little shit actually found her. And with that they walked right into his trap. The door in the room she was standing in slammed shut and moments later she heard Amy scream and Charlie was yelling for her again.

"Fuck!" Miranda pulled on the handle to no avail. "I'm not in the mood for games, Jerry," she hissed giving the knob a hard kick and the door snapped open. She scanned the rest of the top floor and found it empty before going back down to find Charlie; she could still hear him clamoring about so he was still here somewhere.

She found him soon enough; along with someone unexpected.

Their bodies collided and man number two held up his hands in defense. Miranda raised her gun and approached them carefully from behind.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he whispered his breathing labored. "I guess I don't want to be a man like me either." He pulled open his jacket. "Let's kill something," his voice was scruffy and…familiar.

"Peter?!" Miranda breathed, her mouth dropping open. She engaged the safety on her shotgun and quickly secured it in place on her back.

Peter turned to face her; straps belted across his chest containing various weapon shells and stakes, some sort of knife was in a sheath at his hip and a rifle strapped on his back.

"Randi, I tried to call, I wan-"

She cut him off with her lips, weaving her hands into his hair and feverishly pulling him down to meet her. His hands went down to her waist, or tried to, there was too much bulk in the way so he made his way back up and cradled her face. His tongue slid in over hers and she pulled him closer, whimpering into his mouth.

"I'd be lying if I said the get up wasn't…well you wear it well," Peter smirked when he pulled away, resting his forehead on hers.

"I could say the same," she whispered, tracing a finger down one of the straps across his chest.

Peter leaned into her and pressed a kiss to her neck. "Would it be wrong of me if I were completely turned on right now?" he whispered hotly into her ear.

"Hardly," she grinned, earning a giggle from him in return.

"Ahem," Charlie loudly cleared his throat from behind them. "As much as I hate to break this up, Amy, remember?"

"Right, of course." Peter stood straight and turned back around, but not before giving her a wink and a quick kiss on the cheek.

"He was keeping her in one of those rooms, but when I got the door open she was gone. It's this way." Charlie led them back up the stairs and down the hall towards Jerry's room.

"Why Peter?" Miranda asked as they followed from behind.

"Why what?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Don't play coy, Pete. Why didn't you go? Why are you here?"

He stopped to look at her. "I told you Miranda, I won't watch you die. So I have to make sure it doesn't happen at all." He tilted his head lower so he was at her level. "I'm tired of running, I…I…just want it to be over, to be able to sleep through the night and be able to wake up every morning next to you."

She smiled up at him with glazed smiling eyes, licking her lips trying to think of something to say in return.

"Jesus, you two are worse than kids in school," Charlie quipped from the closet in the room ahead. "Can we get a move on please? Before the shit hits the fan?"

Miranda poked Peter in the chest. "Just so you know this is _not_ how I operate. You are a distraction."

"Would you rather me leave?" he scoffed with an arched eyebrow.

"No." She nodded her head towards the closet. "Now go," she shooed him, pushing gently at his back.

Charlie was standing at the open door, gesturing to the open room with frantic arms. "See there, look she's gone. She was in there, I heard her."

Peter got down on his hands and knees, examining the creases in the floor boards with his fingers when a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. He pulled the knife at his belt free and wiggled it in the crack in the center, swiftly sliding it up the groove and sending the panels flying open.

"Floor trap, I use them all the time," he said soundly, slipping his knife back in its sheath.

"What do you think is down there?" Charlie asked, shining the light attached to the end of his cross bow into the opening.

"Well there's only one way to find out." Peter began to situate himself over the missing panels, swinging his legs into the hole.

"You going down?" Charlie asked and Miranda groaned, anticipating the inevitable response.

"See that, like a great date. You get me drunk enough I'll try anything," he rattled off with a snarky head bob.

"Peter, wait. I'll go first. You could…break something," Miranda suggested with a grimace.

"Fuck Randi, I may not be a boy anymore, but I'm not a brittle old man," he quipped.

"I'm just saying, Pete, It's not like…it's my first time," she gently pushed the issue with a shrug.

He scowled and continued to shimmy his way into the opening until he was hanging by his arms and finally let go. She heard his body hit and roll followed by a few grunts of pain. Miranda rolled her eyes.

"You're up kid, in the hole."

Charlie went in much the same way, cries of pain and all when he hit the ground below.

She shook her head. The old man and the kid boty managed to get bruised on this fall. Was it really that big of a drop? She went over to the opening until her belly was level, pulled out one of her lights and leaned in. Okay, yeah, so the drop was a little ways down and the pile of dirt below didn't look so pleasant either; but it could be avoided. Miranda smirked, clicked off her light, and scooted her body further into the hole until her fingers wrapped around the metal pipe on the other side of the floor. She smoothly rolled her way into the floor below and swung her body a few times before landing securely on the solid ground.

"Peter, Peter," Charlie was calling for him as he was picking himself up off the ground.

She could hear him groan from the other side of the pile and soon enough he too was hobbling to his feet. She took a good look around; it wasn't just a pile of dirt, it was much more than that, bones and she could smell the blood now that she was there.

Human blood, young human blood.

Peter came to stand by her and his arm landed on her shoulder as he stumbled slightly.

"I told you to let me go first," she smirked wrapping an arm around him until he was steady again. He sniffed; nothing could cover up the smell of death that lingered there, anyone could smell it. His face twisted as he looked around the room.

"Oh shit, I may not be drunk enough for this," he groaned.

"Welcome to my world," Miranda whispered, patting his shoulder as she walked around him, kneeling down to examine the ground they were standing on.

They were in the middle of a large pit, complete with small ladder leading out. Almost as if it were the beginnings of some type of swimming pool.

"Charlie!" Amy's voice could be heard calling from a distance.

They all shared looks between each other before glancing down the hallway that her voice drifted from.

"After you," Peter nodded to Charlie, his gun at the ready.

"Something isn't right here," Miranda said quietly.

"No shit," Peter scoffed.

She let out a puff of air, "Peter, this," she said stomping her foot, "what is this."

"How the fuck should I know? An indoor pool?"

"With bodies everywhere? No, I know what it is…fuck, I know…something. Go with Charlie, I'm staying here," she said sinking back down to the ground.

"Miranda-"

"Peter, go." She tapped the big gun at her hip. "I'll be fine."

He nodded and followed Charlie up the steps.

* * *

><p>Miranda circled around the pit, her eyes searching outside the ring. There were chunks of missing concrete missing in the wall around the pit, in large sections packed with dirt and more bones. His scent was so strong here it made her head hurt. Why couldn't she remember? She picked up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between her fingers, enough blood was mixed with the soil that it stained her fingertips pink, but still she remembered nothing.<p>

"FUCK!" She heard Peter shout out in pain as his body hit what she could only assume was a wall. She attempted to rush back up the steps but was stopped by a pair of strong arms before she reached the edge of the pit; Peter just within her sight.

"I'm so sorry, Miranda," Dimitri's shaking voice filled her ears.

Dimitri! So that's where he had gotten off to. But why this? Why stop her?

"What the hell are you doing, you're supposed to help!" she groaned as she struggled against him.

He held her closer, putting his head down on her shoulder. "He came to the hotel, said he was going to hurt you if I didn't let him continue. I can't let him hurt you." She swore she felt a cold tear sink into her shirt and she cursed inwardly to herself for ever getting him involved.

She watched as Jerry walked out from the shadows, a striking resemblance of his brother, but there was no feeling behind those eyes, no color, only darkness and hunger.

"Look at you all grown up," he said coolly to Peter, holding out his arms in some sort of receiving gesture. "Welcome to fright night, for real," his voice contorted to a growl and she could see the fear in Peter's eyes as he stumbled to his feet.

"Miranda!" he called out for her, stumbling back into the wall.

"Dimitri, please, please don't do this. I'm begging you," she cried. "You said you don't want him to hurt me, well this is hurting me!"

"He will kill you, Miranda. Or worse. No, I cannot let that happen." Dimitri held strong against her.

"Shoot him, Peter!" she yelled, "Fucking shoot him!"

"Where are you?"

"Just fucking shoot him!"

Peter fired his gun and she heard it hit the wall. Miranda groaned and turned her head away. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.

"What a lousy shot. You sure he's with you?" Dimitri asked with honest shock behind his voice.

"Shut up," she scowled.

Jerry was moving closer to him. "You have your mother's eyes."

Peter shot again and missed.

"And your father's aim."

He fired again, hitting him just below the shoulder, but it didn't even slow him, he only glanced at the wound and smirked.

"Better," he whispered with a smile.

Peter backed up until he tumbled backwards over the ladder and fell into the pit. "Whoa, Fuck," he cried out as he rolled over and got to his feet.

"Christ, Peter you own all those fucking guns; you'd think you'd know how to use one!" Miranda scolded, still pulling against Dimitri's arms.

Peter spun around and pointed his gun at them. "What the? … You let her go, don't think I won't fucking shoot you!"

"NO!" They both shouted together. Peter cocked his head in confusion but didn't lower his gun.

"He's harmless, Peter…mostly. I'm fine. It's not Dimitri you have to worry about." Miranda did her best to get him to stop waving that gun at them.

"What the fuck do you mean, harmless?"

"Not now, Peter," she spat, "We have a bigger problem," she nodded at the elder brother looming at the top of the pit.

"Oh, how sweet, I missed watching the pair of you. You've grown up to be quite the specimen, Miranda." Jerry inhaled deeply, licking his lips. "I can see why my brother took so quickly to you."

"Brother?" Peter asked taking a step back.

"Oh, she didn't tell you she made a bond with my sweet baby brother? No, of course not. How could she?" Jerry crooned.

"Miranda, you didn't," Peter breathed, "Please tell me you didn't. That can't be broken you know, not easily, and not without consequences to one or the other."

"Peter, shut it," Miranda scowled.

"Did…did he…are you…"

"Fuck, Peter! You know I'm not! Now shut up, he's trying to provoke you," she snapped.

Jerry smiled, stretching his neck from side to side emitting loud cracking sounds. "She never answered you, Peter."

Miranda stared at the vampire with dark hateful eyes before taking a deep breath and turning her look on Peter. "It was Romania. Before I came here, before I even knew I was going to find you. And I didn't know they were…related."

"Mm mm no, that was a bonus," Jerry quipped, clapping his hands together. "You're practically my sister in law."

Miranda felt Dimitri's grip loosen and she glanced back to see a flash of sadness flash over his face.

"Oh wait, no, my brother can't do that part right either. So I guess I have to finish the job," Jerry smirked and before she knew it she found herself being tossed in Peter's direction.

Dimitri had Jerry by the throat and pressed up against the wall, his fangs drawn but nothing more; not the twisted face of a monster that she had seen so many of them take on before when provoked. This was the simple face of protection.

"You said you wouldn't hurt her," Dimitri snarled, his hand pressing harder into his brother's throat.

"Semantics," Jerry coughed out, squeezing an arm between them and shoving hard, sending Dimitri's body back through several beams of wood.

Miranda's eyes landed on more bones as she hit the ground, still not being able to shake the idea that this hole held some type of significance. Peter wrapped his arms around the back of her shoulders and hoisted her to her feet.

"I'm not speaking to you," he grunted in her ear.

"Now is not the time to be childish, Peter!"

"You don't get it, Randi, you're attached to him, until one or the other dies, and then it'll be quite painful to the survivor. You of all people should have known that!" he argued, spinning her around to face him.

Miranda shoved him backwards "I did know that! I've tried everything to find this fucker, this was my last resort, Dimitri knew something and it was the only way I was getting any information." She pushed him again. "I did it for you!" She turned around to see Jerry smirking on bended knee.

"Fuck!" She cried out, quickly pulling out her trusty stake and bake from her hip and firing one off, missing and sending it flying into the pile of dirt behind him.

Jerry laughed when the explosive went off and they were all covered in bits of dust, bone and blood. "And here I thought you were supposed to be one with good aim."

"Distractions," Miranda growled, glaring at Peter.

Jerry plucked up one of the chunks of rock and tossed it towards Peter, hitting him in the forehead.

"Ow!" Peter brought his hand to his head and wiped the small trickle of blood away that was left behind.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, Peter, I know what this is," Miranda whispered beginning to back away. "Dimitri, get the fuck up!" she yelled to the still body across the room.

"Really, a pebble, that's it?" Peter scoffed, his voice raising an octave.

Miranda raised her gun, she only had eleven explosives, not nearly enough, and this was going to be very bad.

Jerry's mouth twitched slightly and he pointed a clawed finger towards the now grumbling wall.

"Oh shit," Peter muttered, watching with wide eyes as hands with black clawed fingers burst through and feet began to wiggle their way out.

The first few of who knew how many tumbled out of the wall and swiftly landed on all fours. "Fuck!" Peter gasped and jumped back a few feet.

"Fuck indeed," Miranda uttered, pulling the trigger and sending the first stake flying straight into the chest of her first victim.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

**A/N:Oh I know I'm soo horrid, breaking it up in sections like this. Just think of it this way. More Prandi for you! I hope it was believable. This is why I hate writing in movie or in show fics. I really hate to change too much and the movie was grand on it's own. So here you have it, another daytime update, this is really fucking up my sleeping habits XD You know what to do!**

**Shelly**


	21. Chapter 21

**Walk Out Alive**

Peter whipped his coat tail aside pulling out his own make shift gun of stakes, smaller in comparison to hers and fired it at one of the approaching vampires, hitting her body, but missing her heart.

_At least he hit something_ Miranda thought as she ripped a stake from the belt on her chest and plunged it into another one. Peter fired again, this time he managed to hit his target dead on and she promptly dissolved into a burst of ash.

"Ha, ha!" he laughed, giving Miranda a pride seeking nod.

"Congratulations," she lulled, rolling her eyes, shooting off another round into a male that was bearing down onto her from above. She missed his heart by only a little the blast threw her on her back and she quickly rolled over and covered her face in an attempt to avoid any of the splatter.

She looked back to Peter, who now had his weapon raised at an approaching Jerry. He pulled the trigger and the barrel sparked and then did nothing. Peter smacked the side of the gun in frustration.

"Fucking eBay!" he groaned.

"Paperweight," Miranda sneered, hopping to her feet and killing off another one approaching him from behind. She handed him one of her hand guns, tossing the now empty stake and bake aside. "Make them count," she breathed, pulling her shotgun from her back and giving it a pump.

Her back was to him and they made a small circle, firing off shots in all directions trying to put off the inevitable. _Hurry the fuck up, Charlie_ Miranda thought to herself, knocking Peter out of the way to shove a stake through one of the younger ones. Damn, they were fast, no wonder he was plucking up kids.

Peter was getting better, but still missing more often than not, and already out of bullets; Miranda tossed him a magazine. "I'd really like to come out of this alive, Peter!" She shouted, dashing up the steps, heading over to where Dimitri had been thrown.

* * *

><p>She stepped over his body and gave the side of his face a good slap. He groaned and his head rolled slightly but other than that he didn't respond. She groaned and pulled her other gun from her holster and pressed in into his shoulder, wincing as she pulled the trigger.<p>

His eyes flew open and he pinned her on the ground beneath her, bearing his fangs and breathing heavy.

"Oh good you're awake," she quipped.

"You shot me!" he snarled, "Why the fuck did you shoot me!"

"Desperate times, desperate measures, all that shit. Now do you mind? I have a little problem."

"Yeah…well…so do I," he sneered, motioning his head towards the hole in his shoulder. She should of known he was going to react like this, but it was a chance she had to take.

Miranda scoffed and Dimitri raised his eyebrows.

"Really? Holy water laced bullets. That hole isn't going to fix itself, Miranda." The corner of his mouth twitched up.

"You've got to be kidding me, absolutely not!" Miranda struggled beneath him. "I left Peter out there alone, to come get your ass; I suggest you let me up."

"Do you want my help or not," he asked. "I can't help if I'm not one hundred percent, you knew that before coming over here."

Miranda sighed, "I need my arm."

Dimitri smiled and released one of her wrists so she could grab her knife from her belt. She placed the blade on the outside of her forearm and froze.

"You bite me and I swear to god I'll kill you," she hissed.

"I promise," he grinned, "Just a taste."

Miranda took a breath and pulled the blade across her arm, wincing as the heat of the knife sliced through her skin. The change in him was instantaneous. He breathed her in; the color in his eyes remained but his look intensified and she swore she could hear his undead heart beating rapidly in his chest.

His hand came up and stroked her cheek gently. "Thank you," he whispered, gingerly bringing his head down to her wound and carefully sucking the blood that was seeping from her arm. The pain was instantly gone and her body was filled with an indescribable warmth. She couldn't help but gasp and fist a hand in his shirt as he drank. He was resisting, that much she could tell. He did his best to keep his lips pressed hard against her skin and his teeth away from her. His body stiffened and he pulled away, breathing ragged and eyes closed. When he opened them to look at them they were as green as emeralds and he flashed her smile that was a mile wide before bending back down and sealing the gash with his tongue, placing a small kiss to the scar it would leave behind.

"Wow," she whispered "That uh…that was-"

"Mmm, I have mentioned how much I hate that Peter guy right?" Dimitri smirked with hopeful eyes.

"Yeah, no. Still not gonna happen, sorry," she scoffed with a shake of her head. "I'm not going to…change….am I?"

"No," Dimitri shook his head with a smile and got up, helping her to her feet. "I'd never break a promise to you, Miranda. Now let's go save your boyfriend."

* * *

><p>The onslaught continued as soon as they were back within sight; Miranda held them off with more bullets as Dimitri was effortlessly twisting off heads as they approached. Peter was held up in the corner, by the grace of god still holding his own.<p>

"You again," Peter snarled as he caught sight of Dimitri.

"Peter-" Miranda warned, "He's here for both of us."

"And you?" he snapped, shooting off another round. He was actually getting good now. Leave someone alone with a gun and a room full of thirsty vampires and it'll do wonders for their aim. "Who are you here for?"

Miranda fired off the last round in her shot gun, used the butt of it to bash one in the head to disorient it before driving a stake home. She then spun around to confront Peter.

"Are you serious? You want to do this now?" She heard a growl behind her but Dimitri was already on it, giving his neck a twist and Miranda flinched at the sight. "At least you were honest when you said you were shit at relationships," she huffed, shooting one that was creeping up on Peter's side; he turned just in time to pull a stake from the strap on his chest and finish him off.

Miranda marched over to him and extended her arm, showing him the fresh white line that now ran down her forearm.

"You see that, that could have went terribly wrong. But I took my chances, because more than anything, Peter I want to walk out of here. Alive. With you. Yes I am bound to Dimitri, but it is strictly one sided." She ducked around him and fired off a shot at an older victim lurking in the corner.

"You let him-"

"Yes," she groaned firing off another shot.

"And he didn't-" he rammed a stake through a vampire that was withering at his feet.

"Nope!" she turned to face him and flashed a smile.

"But why?" he asked softly.

"Because she loves you, you fucking git!" Dimitri shouted from across the room, plunging his arm through the chest of a middle aged male. "Fucking disgusting, the pair of you," he grunted, kicking the body away from him.

Peter giggled and captured her lips in a kiss. "Not bad, this. Thought it'd be worse."

Miranda laughed, "I've created a monster." She held her gun out straight out at arm's length and pulled the trigger, bouncing her eyebrows as she grinned at him.

"Do you mind, I feel like I'm going to be sick over here," Dimitri groaned coming to stand behind her. His chest was heaving and she couldn't help but notice the glare he was sending Peter. "I think we managed to slow them down for the time being. We should find your friend."

"Charlie," Peter nodded, "Where is that little bast- shit!"

They watched as Peter had his legs ripped from under him and was dragged backward, disappearing into the dark.

"Peter!" Miranda started to go after him.

"Wait!" Dimitri's hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist.

She shook her head, "No, he's out of ammo; and they certainly won't wait to rip his throat out."

"We don't know how many more there are, Miranda."

"I don't fucking care!" She pulled hard and he released her with a huff of air.

"Stay close," he warned.

She unclipped the light from her belt and saw them hovered around him near the edge of the pit. At least four of them all growling feverishly and underneath it all she could see Peter writhing in pain and hear him crying out.

"No!" She pulled back the hammer on her pistol and pulled the trigger only to hear a click, her heart stopping in her chest. She ejected the clip; empty. She frantically searched her slots for another finding nothing. "Dimitri," she whispered reaching back and grabbing hold of his arm, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I can't lose him, Dimitri."

His arm came across her chest and he held her close. "Miranda look around, do you see their eyes?"

She lifted her light and did a sweep of the room, big black beady eyes glistening like marbles everywhere, all around them, all fixated on Peter.

"For each one I pull off there will only be another to take its place. I can only fight for so long. Charlie is your best bet now," he said remorsefully and she tried to pull against him again.

"I am sorry, Miranda."

Her arms came up and gripped his, watching as they tore at Peter's clothes finding new patches of skin to rip into. In that moment she wished that he would have left, he would have been better off somewhere else, somewhere far away. She could always find him again, hell this time she had a damn phone number to track him down by. This was her fault, she guilted him into this.

* * *

><p>The door in the hall burst open and Charlie came running out; crossbow in hand, shining his light over the room.<p>

"What the?" he breathed panic settling in his eyes. The beam of light reached Peter's discarded shot gun and he hopped down the steps to grab it, pointing it at the pile of vampires that were feasting on his groaning body.

"Charlie no!" Miranda cried out. That would certainly only piss them off even more.

Charlie looked her way and shrugged his shoulders not knowing any other way out of this. Miranda closed her eyes and began to think, rattling her brain for any type of solution.

Dimitri released her and pointed to the ceiling, backing away and giving her a reassuring nod. She glanced back at Charlie who still held the gun with hesitation. "The floorboards! Shoot out the floorboards," she called. "Fry 'em."

He fired one round above them and sure enough the sunlight from above flooded into the hole, but not where Peter was. He stepped forward and fired again, making a large hole directly above Peter's body and sending one of the vampires up in flames. Charlie shot off a few more rounds, sending several beams of light around his body and they quickly joined him in the safety of the sun; but not before one of them snatched the gun from Charlie's hands.

"How ya holding up?" Charlie nodded to Peter.

"Ah, fucking great," he groaned. "I take it back, Randi, this is bloody awful."

"Jesus, Peter you're a mess," she breathed, gingerly touching the exposed skin near his shoulder where several large claw marks were drawn down the length of his chest.

Peter flinched at her touch, "Good thing I'll have you to kiss and make it all better then," he joked, trying miserably to hide his pain.

Miranda frowned and pushed the hair from his eyes, "Whatever you'd like," she whispered.

"Hmm," he let out a high pitched hum. "Those are dangerous words, Cooper," he quipped.

"Don't I know it," she said with a coy smile.

Charlie had turned his attention on a young vampire that was hissing and growling in front of them, puffing out his chest at the beams of light but not daring to move any closer.

"Mark?" His face twisted up in confusion.

"You're dead now asshole," the kid replied with a feral growl.

"Ba ba bada ba," Jerry's sing song voice came from somewhere across from them; his body casually propped up against the wall of the pit, simply watching the events that were unfolding before him. Showing up when it was beneficial to him.

"What were you thinking Charlie? That you were just going to walk in here with your little cross bow and put to bed four hundred years of survival?" he drug a nail down the side of a metal pole as he moved closer to them. "No, Charlie, not likely."

"What's that, cross bow didn't work?" Miranda smirked quietly.

Charlie scoffed.

"Tried to tell you."

"And you, sweet little Miranda Cooper," Jerry hummed with a smile. "I remember when I first saw you, coddling that boy so many years ago, cleaning up my mess. So young, so innocent," he took a deep breath, "So full of life. And then he left, and you became _a killing machine_. That's why he survived; I stopped watching him and turned my eyes on you. I created my own monster.

Jerry ran his hands up the side of his head and grabbed a fist full of hair. "But this thing with my brother is messing with my head, I'm done playing. At least you'll have gotten most of what you wanted in the end; you found him and me, you'll just be dead," he leaned up against a beam and gave her a one sided smirk.

"You know if you kill me, Dimitri probably won't survive. He's had too much blood," Miranda stated soundly, holding out her arm.

Jerry cocked his head. "Well now, how did he manage to convince you of that," he chuckled. "No matter, we were never that close, and I don't see him here now to save you."

Miranda's heart beat sped up and she did a quick once over of where they were. He was right, Dimitri had disappeared from sight, and if Jerry couldn't tell he was there that wasn't good news.

"You smell that," Jerry inhaled with a grin, "That's your fear." He stepped around a beam of light, hissing at it as he passed by. "It's intoxicating; it's a very specific scent." He stepped around one of his victims, rubbing his hand through their hair as he came around them full circle.

"So is he," Miranda uttered under her breath, earning a light poke from Peter in the ribs.

Jerry crouched down in front of Charlie, chuckling darkly while placing a clawed nail into the sunlight, watching in amusement as it began to smoke and eventually flame up before blowing it out.

"Amy's scent," he said while beaming, "Now that was exquisite. It's all gone now, Charlie."

Amy's figure began fluttering down the hallway in a bloodied white dress, swaying down the steps towards them like some sort of misfortunate soulless figurine.

"She's something isn't she," he continued. "I have to thank you for bringing her to me," Jerry paused to let out a laugh, "Well she, she makes me feel young again."

Peter winced and let out a small groan. Miranda turned, the all too familiar scent of burning flesh already beginning to settle in around her.

"Peter," she whispered to him, her brown eyes wide; full of fear and concern. They had to hurry.

"I'm smoking," he muttered, holding up his hand, which was doing just that; the sunbeams hissing at his skin and the smoke rising off of his fingertips.

"Yeah, you're turning," Jerry quipped while getting to his feet. "You can't stay there forever, the suns got to go down, but we can wait," Jerry said approaching Amy, brushing the hair off her shoulders before bringing his mouth down on hers.

Peter already had a flask out and was gulping down the fluid inside. "That's rough," he said gruffly shaking his head.

Charlie inhaled sharply and scooted back.

Miranda patted Peter's arm with the back of her hand and motioned for him to hand over his bottle. Peter scowled and did so with hesitation.

"You don't even like the stuff," he groaned.

"Yeah well, beggars can't be choosers," she replied taking a long pull before handing it back to him.

A tear trekked down Charlie's cheek when Jerry pulled away and used a clawed nail to slice a cut on his chest and poor Charlie was forced to watch as Amy fed greedily from his wound, lapping up the seeping blood without hesitation. When she stopped it was to return to his lips and Charlie turned his head away.

"I ever turn into that, I give you full permission to stake me," Miranda said quietly into Peter's side.

"Looks like we just might be finding out before the day is through," he muttered, placing a cigarette in his mouth and fumbling in his pocket for a lighter.

Miranda grinned, "You just might be surprised," she grinned turning to pat Charlie on the back.

The kid was already pulling the mask over his head by the time she touched him. "Got a light?" he asked Peter straight forward.

Peter's eyebrows popped up. "That's your plan?"

"Actually it's your plan," Charlie replied with a slight cock of the head, slipping his goggles on.

"Fuck," Peter whispered, smoke puffing out between his teeth. He gave Miranda a questioning look. "You knew?"

She nodded in response. "It's our best shot." She held his gaze with a one sided smile and shrugged. "It was a good idea, Pete."

He turned back to Charlie, flicking the light to the zippo and slowly lowering his arm until it touched the leg of Charlie's pants and he went up in a fiery blaze.

Charlie quickly got to his feet and launched himself at Jerry, wrapping the climbing hook from his waist around both of them and sending them flying around the room in a scorching mess. They knocked out beams, flew up to the top of the room taking out floor boards, slammed into the walls.

"What the fuck do we do now?!" Peter's panicked voiced called over the screams and growls.

Miranda held up her hands and shrugged, her mouth falling open. "He has the damned stake, it's up to him!"

Or he had the stake; it had slipped from Charlie's hands and was now lying on the ground being about as useful as a toothpick.

The other vampires were getting braver and attempting to close in on their little circle of light. Miranda moved in tighter on Peter's back, her eyes catching a glimpse of his gun not far off from where they were sitting.

"Gun, Peter, get the gun," she said tapping repeatedly on his leg.

"You do it," he snapped.

"For fuck's sake, Pete, just go!" she pushed his shoulder, "You can do this."

He scurried to the gun and began blowing holes above them. One of the female vampires had attempted to move up on him from behind but Peter knocked her back with the business end of his gun and a big, "Fuck you!" He fired off more shots and more beams of sunlight poured into the room, clouds of ash began to fill the room.

There was an unearthly scream as Charlie rolled himself into one of the beams and Jerry's body began to burn above him, the skin slowly melting from his body.

"No, no, no, it won't fix anything," Miranda muttered to herself, her hand instantly going over her mouth and glancing over at Peter.

Peter's eyes had already found the stake lying in the dirt and he began to crawl over to it. His fingers wrapped around the base.

"Charlie!" he yelled, "In the heart!" He chucked the weapon hard in Charlie's direction and the kid drove it home, right into Jerry's exposed organ as he let out another beastly scream. His body immediately starting to turn to ash and pieces began to drift away with each jerking motion.

The room began to fill with dark shadows being pulled from all of Jerry's victims. Miranda watched as Peter's body twisted in pain and his body too emitted such a shadow and she breathed a sigh of relief. The darkness swirled around Charlie and Jerry's bodies until some force drove them inside of Jerry himself and then forced their way out with one giant push. He was everywhere now; blood, goo, ash and bone, bits of Jerry rained down on them from above for a moment or two and then the air was suddenly cleared, as if it were all a dream.

Miranda ran a hand down her face and quickly hopped to her feet, rushing over to Charlie. Peter was already over him; swinging off his jacket and patting what was left of the flames out.

"Charlie! Charlie, come on!" Peter was frantically patting the side of his face, looking up at Miranda briefly in desperation. "Come on, Charlie, come on," he kept on, pulling the goggles off his face. "Come on, come on, come on, wake up, wake up. Charlie!" he continued slapping the side of his face as Amy came around and watched with tears in her eyes.

"Peter-" Miranda voiced with concern.

"Come on you little prick, come on! Charlie!" Peter stopped hitting his face and sat back, after a few moments, Charlie's eyes slowly began to open.

"Hey," he whispered, looking up at Amy with a small smile.

"Hey," she breathed, smiling back.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, "Are you?"

Charlie smirked, "Yeah, I'm all right."

Peter smiled, grabbing Charlie's chin in his hand and leaning over and planting a kiss right on him. "You little shit," he grumbled. He took out his flask and waved it over him, spilling a few drops. "Next time you're going to use my plan, give me a heads up first, yeah?" he requested before taking a drink.

Charlie and Amy looked at each other and shared a laugh.

"Agghhh whoo!" Peter fell back into the dirt and Miranda couldn't help but grin. She crawled over to his side and beamed down at him.

"Sooo," she drawled out sucking in her bottom lip. "I was thinking about maybe taking some time off. See I've got this great guy; he's got a great place, shit job though. Never the less, I'd really like to-"

Peter quickly pulled her down by one of the belts on her chest, closing his mouth over hers and flipping her over on her back. He smiled against her lips when she let out a small yelp just before melting into him. Her hands roamed through his hair and came back around to settle on his chest.

"I've got you. You're not going anywhere, Cooper."

"Well, who am I to argue," she whispered, kissing him again.

Peter rolled off of her and helped her to her feet, taking her hands in his. His eyes fell on the scar on the inside of her arm and he traced it with his thumb and looked down at her with slightly worry-some eyes.

"Dimitri," she whispered. Turning away from Peter but he held his grip on her other hand.

"Peter...he didn't just disappear in broad daylight, and I'd know if he was…dead."

Peter scowled.

Miranda took his other hand and pulled them up between them, kissing his fingertips. "I know you don't …like him."

"That's an understatement," he scoffed.

"And the feeling is mutual, believe me. But he still helped you. Please, Pete."

Charlie came up and patted Peter on the shoulder.

"You know man, all those girls that have been knocking down your door. Well if she can forgive you _for that _you can surely help find this one measly guy."

"Vampire," Peter snarled, "And thank you, Charlie for bringing that up."

"Vampire?" Amy backed up, pulling Charlie with her.

"He's…different," Miranda shrugged. "In a matter of speaking, perfectly harmless, unless you happen to smell like me."

Peter's eyebrows shot up.

"Joking," she huffed, "Now let's get a move on shall we."

* * *

><p>Miranda and Peter took one end of the room while Amy and Charlie took the other; searching through piles of rubble and shooing the other kids off to their homes. The building committee was going to have one hell of a time cleaning this place up; they might as well bulldoze and start all over again. They checked down the hall and in the room that Amy was being held in, they even ventured back into the upper section of the house just in case he would have risked it. Miranda sighed and ran a hand through her hair while Peter rubbed her shoulders.<p>

"He can't have gotten far, Randi," he said gently, kissing her temple.

"Miranda, Peter!" Charlie's voice called from below, and she bolted down the stairs.

Amy and Charlie were standing next to a pile of beams, groaning beams with a pair of boots sticking out.

"Move them!" Miranda demanded, grabbing one side while Peter automatically went to another. They moved one by one, piece by piece until the pile was clear and all that was left was a body with a heaving chest. Miranda knelt down, placed a hand on his shoulder and swallowed hard.

"Dimitri," she coaxed, shaking gently.

He smiled and a hand came up to cover hers. "Hello, Miranda," he said quietly; green eyes fluttering open.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fantastic," he grinned.

"What happened?"

"You…well and your friends here, but without you I wouldn't be here in the first place. So… mostly you. Come, help me up." He grabbed hold her hand and wiggled his other hand for her to take while pulling himself up to a sitting position.

"Dimitri, I can't-"

"Trust me," he whispered, gesturing for her to stand and help pull him to his feet.

"What the hell is going on," Charlie murmured to Peter out the corner of his mouth.

"I have no fucking clue," Peter replied. "I'm not quite sure that I like it either."

Dimitri coughed once he was up, and dusted off his hands on his jeans before tousling his hair. "Okay," he breathed, turning back to look at Miranda. "Here goes nothing." He took a step towards one of the gaping holes in the floor above into the sunlight.

"NO!"

"HEY!"

"ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS?!"

Miranda, Charlie and Peter all yelled at the same time. Dimitri only glanced at them and kept walking; the corners of his lips twitching upward as the sun light slowly crawled over his body. He spread his arms wide and turned full circle with a smile.

Miranda held a hand over her mouth and bit back a laugh. "You gotta be kidding me!" She ran over to where he was standing, carefully circling him. She ran a hand down his arm, his warm arm, and broke into a wide smile.

"Oh, oh, ho, ho, oh, boy," she laughed.

Dimitri nodded back with a grin and she found herself pushing the sides of his mouth up, running her fingers along the bottoms of his upper teeth.

"Yo…Your own brother-"

"Mmm hmm," he hummed.

"But now you're a-"

"Yup," he said loudly popping the _p_ and flashing her a wide smile.

"But what about us, I mean I didn't feel anything. I don't think _this circumstance_ has ever happened before."

Dimitri shrugged, "Nope, don't think it has. I will say this Miranda; I am still ridiculously attracted to you. But just to be sure."

Dimitri grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers, breathing her in as he kissed her. Miranda's eyes popped open wide and her hands went up to his chest pressing back slightly. He pulled away just in time for Peter to come stomping up to them.

"What in fucking hell do you think you're doing?" He barked out, pushing Dimitri backward.

"Pete, stop," Miranda grabbed his arm and pulled him off.

"Anything?" Dimitri smirked with a cocked eyebrow.

Miranda ran a hand down her face and laughed. "No, not at all."

"Shame, that," he said with a head tilt sucking his teeth.

"Nah, you're quite the looker Dimitri. You won't have a problem picking up a normal girl; and I'm far from normal anyhow."

"Thank you, Miranda. I've been trapped for so long… and now..." he looked up at the hole above him and smiled at the light coming through. "Now I feel like I can start living."

Miranda let go of Peter and went over to wrap her arms around Dimitri's neck, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. "You be careful. I'd stay away from Romania."

"Yeah," he chuckled, "Maybe I'll see you around."

"Possibly. Now go on," Miranda nodded towards the outside and with one final grin and a wave Dimitri turned and left.

"Do you mind explaining, Miranda, because that most certainly looked like more than a kiss between friends!" Peter barked, grabbing her hand and pulling her off into the shade.

Miranda smiled up at him and shook her head.

"Oh so you're happy about it, then. I'm glad one of us is," he scoffed turning away from her.

"Peter," she laughed once, running a hand down his face, forcing him to look at her. "When Charlie killed Jerry, it fixed you, and Amy…_and Dimitri_. We're not connected anymore." She gestured down at the mark on her arm. "It's nothing but a battle wound now, much like your own."

"But you're both..."

"Fine, yeah. I suppose the rules change once you go human," she shrugged.

He tugged her into him and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Can we go home now, I could do with a good bath, followed by some sleep," he murmured against her skin.

"I thought you'd never ask," she sighed, nuzzling into his chest, breathing in the scent of ashes and cloves.

Miranda wasn't sure if she could give it up forever, she honestly didn't know if she wanted to; the hunt had been such a big part of her life. But so had Peter, it had all boiled down to Peter. And then she found him; drunk out of his mind, sleeping with half the city, and hiding behind an impregnable wall. Well…almost impregnable, she had always been his one link back to the real world. But this was the real world. The real world was filled with invisible monsters that took out unseeing victims when they were least expecting it.

Unless you had someone who knew where to look.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

**A/N:Whew! I'm beat. I have offically watched the end of Fright Night about one million times. And could probably go a million more. (Tennant you sexy bastard!) I do plan on doing a wrap up for the last bit...or maybe two, so stay tuned, and do what you do best. Thanks for sticking it out. Big love to my loyal lovlies MandaPanda89, saichick-Anna-Erishkigal (you always have my love!), MissCaityGrace, and more recently LaraF, you guys are fabulous. I know Peter/OC fics get no love and that sucks :P But here's to you for giving me a shot in the dark...all puns intended. **

**You've read it, hopefully you loved it (or at least enjoyed it), now review it!**

**All my loves**

**Shelly!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Suggestions**

Miranda sighed contently, leaning back against his body and allowing her eyes to slip close as the water and bubbles washed over them in gentle wakes. Peter's arms went around her and he nuzzled her cheek, pressing a kiss on her jaw line.

"Penny for your thoughts," he murmured against her skin.

Miranda shook her head. "No," she whispered with a smile, reaching a hand back and cupping the side of his face. "For once I have no thoughts, for the first time in my adult life I'm…relaxed," she breathed out a single laugh. "I could stay right here, in this moment, forever."

"Then stay," he dropped several more kisses to the side of her face, muttering between each one. "Stay, right here, with me, forever."

"Well, as lovely as that sounds, Peter, eventually we'll turn to prunes," she giggled.

Peter closed his eyes and sighed, of course she wasn't following what he was saying; she had been there what, four days? But how could she not know that there was no other option for him.

"What?" She opened her eyes and turned on her side so she could see him better. "What's wrong?"

Peter smiled softly, tracing her lower lip with his thumb, allowing it to linger there before dropping his hand to her chest and tapping the space where her heart beat.

"Come away with me." He said it as more of a statement than a request, his deep brown eyes holding on to hers.

"Peter, what?" she questioned quietly with a shocking laugh.

"I have a bit of time off, I thought I was…you know." He shook his head "I don't want to spend it here, Miranda. Let's go somewhere."

"You're serious?" she smiled, wrapping her hand around his.

He slowly nodded once.

"Okay," she whispered, smiling and nodding. "Okay."

"Yeah?" His eyes lit up from within and his mouth spread into a grin.

"Where ever you want….well, no Europe please. I've seen enough of that," she laughed, toying with his hair.

Peter kissed her quickly, "No, we'll stay relatively close." He tucked a damp curl behind her ear and kissed her again, "I'll book a place later on, Charlie and Amy can stay here, look after things, I'll make sure he's set with the new door man-" he stopped rambling when he noticed Miranda was staring at him with a smirk on her face and amused eyes.

"What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you this excited."

"I just want to go away," he whispered stroking her cheek. "A chance to be normal for a change, to be with you, that's all I've ever wanted, Miranda. Some chance at normalcy with you."

She pushed herself up and sealed her lips over his, gently nipping at his bottom lip. "Well then let's get some sleep, so we can get started." Miranda kissed him again, running a hand through the top of his hair and climbed out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy black towel around her body and one around her head.

Peter exhaled and sunk down into the water. He was beyond ecstatic that she had agreed to go with him, all that time they would have alone together. No Peter Vincent charade to hold up, he could just be Peter. Shit, he didn't know if he remembered how to just be Peter anymore. He smiled to himself, pulling the plug on the drain before getting out and wrapping a towel of his own around his waist.

He grinned at the sight of her already snuggled under his covers, looking between him and the big empty space beside her, tapping the mattress from beneath the sheets.

Peter waved his hands over his body. "I've hardly had time to put any shorts on," he quipped.

"Neither did I," she smiled, sticking out her tongue and drawing in her bottom lip.

Peter giggled and crawled onto the bed until his body was hovering above hers, swooping down to capture her lips in a kiss, humming against her mouth.

Miranda's smile slowly disappeared and she let out a sigh, bringing up a hand and letting her fingers ghost over the marks down the left flank of his chest.

She shook her head, "I never wanted you to get hurt," she said quietly.

"Ah, it doesn't . In fact it's nothing but scratches now," he said smiling down on her.

She sighed "If Charlie wouldn't have used that stake, if Jerry would have just…burnt up. You would have been-" Miranda rubbed a hand over her face and let out a few quick breaths.

"Hey, hey, hey." Peter sank down into the bed beside her and gathered her into his arms. "What happened to no thoughts? Hmm? I'm fine, you're fine, and we're going to be just fine."

"How do you know," she whispered.

"Well-" Peter kissed the top of her head. "I have you…and you have me…as far as I'm concerned that's all we've ever needed, Randi. Ever since the day you walked into that bloody school."

She turned over and blinked up at him, "First day?"

"Oh, Absolutely. I said to myself, as soon as my balls drop I'm going to-"

Miranda burst into a fit of laughs and hit him upside the head with a pillow. "Peter!"

"What?! I was hardly fourteen, Miranda!" he grinned "And you can't say I didn't try when they did. Several times, at that."

"Oh my god, I'm not having this conversation with you," she blushed and rolled over. "Goodnight Peter."

Peter rolled up on his side and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "Goodnight," he whispered before lying down on his back.

It couldn't have been within more than five minutes of them lying there; Miranda wiggling uncomfortably and Peter lying smug with his hands secured behind his head. She tried to close her eyes and fall asleep, but knowing he was over there and she wasn't was quite the distraction. She finally let out a sigh of defeat, rolling over and snuggling into his side, her head resting comfortably on his chest.

Peter smirked and wrapped an arm around her.

They lie in silence, the shades drawn to keep out the impending sunlight, both of them waiting for sleep to come and carry them away.

"You must have been _the horniest teenager_ in all of London," Miranda began to laugh.

"I thought we were supposed to be sleeping," Peter said in an over exaggerated hushed tone.

"Yeah, well that's hard to do when all I can think about is you, _at fourteen_…doing…well, you know," she poked his ribs.

Peter giggled that adorable high pitched giggle he had had since they were young. "Yeah," he squeaked, "lots of that," he laughed.

Miranda shook her head. "I can't believe you."

"Oh, hush, you love it. Besides I'm not fourteen now, I'm all grown up and now quite possibly the horniest man in Vegas," he said matter of factly.

"Oh yes, _at forty_," she grinned.

"Oi! I don't need to be reminded," he came back with a pout.

Miranda chuckled and pressed a kiss to his chest. "So many years, just gone, lost forever," she sighed.

"I'd rather focus on the ones to come if you don't mind."

"Mmkay," she yawned, her body stretching out against his and then relaxing again, her eyes finally beginning to feel heavy. She took in those last calming breaths and nuzzled into him allowing her dreams to slip her away.

* * *

><p>"Well I guess that will have to fucking do then won't it?"<p>

Miranda woke to Peter's voice arguing with someone from the other room. She glanced at the clock at his bedside reading three pm. She ran a hand through her tousled hair and searched around for a shirt to slip on.

"What the hell, Peter?" she grumbled rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Shit, sorry. Suppose I should have shut the door," he winced placing the telephone down on the counter.

She flashed him a mocking grin and flopped down in one of the oversized chairs. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby," he grinned walking over and crouching down in front of her. "One week," he sighed, "The earliest I could get was in a week," he shrugged, "Sorry."

Miranda scoffed. "For what? I'm not in a rush, Pete. It's not like I have plans," she laughed. "I'll just go back to the hotel-"

"Randi you don't have-"

She covered his mouth with her finger tips, "And get my things. I do have to check out you know."

His mouth opened to form a small o.

She smiled and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Now go find me a broom, we still have a mess to clean up."

* * *

><p>There were times in the passing week where Miranda honestly didn't know which was easier. Tracking down vampires, or staying with Peter. Sure, they had more than their share of sweet moments, he never failed to sneak up behind her and pull her into a warm embrace; or steal kisses when she was simply keeping tabs on foreign affairs. But there were times when something would set one or the other off and they would press each other's buttons until the one of them had had enough and stormed out. Spending twenty four hours a day with someone will do that to you, no matter who they are. It always ended the same though, with both of them apologizing profusely to each other and a night of tangled black satin.<p>

Who was she kidding, the only reason she started hunting those monsters was Peter in the first place, the bickering was just another part of what they were and deep down she loved even that.

Miranda's phone began to chime off to the side of her laptop, her father's number staring up at her on the screen. She stared at it momentarily then slid her finger across the ignore symbol. Peter came and sat down beside her, his head falling onto the back of the couch and his hand resting on her lower back.

"You can't ignore him forever, Randi."

She glared back at him, "Says you, I've been doing a grand job so far, if I say so myself."

Peter smirked, sitting up and resting his chin on her shoulder and encircling her waist. "Are you happy? Here, with me?" he asked softly.

"Peter what kind of question is that? You know I am," she shot back, turning to grasp his face in her hands. "Why would you even-"

"Tell him, Miranda," he interrupted. "I'm sure your father would much rather see you happy than lose you. He's still your father, you only get one." There was a wave of sadness washing over his eyes as he spoke, his lips quivered into a slight forced smile and he pushed into the hand she still had against his cheek, slipping his eyes closed.

"Okay," she whispered pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "But not now, I want to enjoy my get-away."

Peter's eyes flickered open. "Me too," he sighed. " You all packed, then? Ready to leave in the morning?"

"Yeah, just some last minute-"

Peter was leaning in to her computer, his eyes scanning the screen.

"Herds of cattle disappearing in upstate New York," he read aloud. "Miranda? Something you want to share with me?"

"I was only curious," she laughed flipping down the lid. "You're not the only one taking time off. Besides it's only cows, they're probably actually very nice…people."

"People?" Peter's eyebrow quirked, "Randi, they are not people!"

She giggled and patted his leg. "You'd be surprised, Pete, you really would. Now I know for a fact you haven't packed a thing, so off you go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:This was supposed to be the last one...but it was turning to be wayyyy to long, the getaway thing is going to be long, and yeah...I didn't think the penthouse part was going to take up so much space. So I split it up. So you get a few more YAY and all fluff! Don't they deserve fluff! They have been through soo much my poor little babies. You guys are still super awesome, I hope you know that. Reviews are like Peter flavored candy...I like candy...and _it is_ almost Halloween!**

**Shelly.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Sober in SoCal**

"Peter!" Miranda fought against his grip for power over his car keys. She was enjoying their banter, although serious on the subject and her strength was far less than his.

"You're not driving, Randi," he complained. "The purpose of a surprise is for it to be a surprise. Such purpose is defeated if the intended surprisee is the driver."

They were standing outside the entrance to the Hard Rock, the Valet having just handed Peter the keys seeing as…well…it was his car.

Peter spun her around, crossing her arms in front of her body and holding her tightly to his chest. "Drop the keys, Cooper," he commanded, his voice may have been stern but it was as smooth as velvet. He smirked when she wet her lips and her breathing increased.

"No," she defiantly replied. Her hold tightened and she brought her face closer to his. "Not until you promise me."

"I already told you, Miranda, I haven't had anything to drink since last night," he sneered.

"Oh, believe me _I can tell,_" she scoffed at his impending mood. "Now promise me, not a drop until we reach where ever it is we are going." She used her free hand that was being held against him to grab his t-shirt and yank him down towards her even more. "Promise me, Peter, you'll get the keys and I _personally guarantee_ that you will be rewarded _most handsomely,_" she whispered huskily, sealing her lips over his, giving his bottom lip a slight tug when she pulled away. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Yeah," he squeaked, quickly clearing his throat, "I promise, nothing but water and sugary garbage from here on out."

"Thank you." She kissed him again, smiling against his mouth and released her grip on the keys. Peter's arms snaked around her waist and held her tight, lifting her slightly and spinning her once before setting her back down.

"No, thank you, Randi." His palm stroked the length of her cheek and his chocolate brown eyes met hers, both of them smiling in admiration.

"Shit," Peter cursed with a shake of the head. "I forgot my phone." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and opened up the car door for her. "Be right back. And then, Miranda Cooper, it's time for the best week of your life."

* * *

><p>She liked the fact that he was quite cocky about his choice for their getaway, and sober to boot. Sober Peter was the most sensitive, he was very attentive and loving…he could also be very crabby. More so than drunk Peter. What do you expect from a man who is used to liquor running through his veins.<p>

The first couple hours of their drive had been tiring; with Peter bitching about slow drivers on the interstate and his constant need to show off the middle finger on his left hand as he flew by inadequate cars. Miranda only covered her face and groaned into her palm. But he was much better spirits now, dare she say, his old self, with that wide toothy grin that could charm the pants off any school girl. This was her Peter, pure and unadulterated, his hair wild and wind-blown.

She reached between the middle console and laced her fingers through his. Peter brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to its back, beaming at her as he did so. He looked so much younger than he had only a week ago, so much happier.

Peter released her hand and reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulled out a simple blindfold and handed it to her.

"You're joking?" she questioned with a breathy laugh.

"Nop-e," he stressed and gave her thigh a squeeze. "Quick now, before it's too late."

The car slowed and Miranda could hear the tires crunching over gravel as they came to a stop. She sighed, listening as Peter's door opened and closed, his footsteps circling the car and pulling the passenger side open. He gently took her hand in his and guided her out, his other hand on the small of her back as they walked.

"Peter-"

"Shh, just wait." He squeezed her hand gently and they came to a stop.

Peter situated himself behind her, one arm resting comfortably around her waist, holding her to him while the other slowly came up and teased the black fabric that covered her eyes. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek, allowing his lips to remain in contact with her skin as he breathed against her.

"I never thought I'd actually get to be here with you," he murmured, his lips pressing into her again.

"Mmm," she hummed with a snide grin. "It's beautifully dark, I'll give you that."

Peter smirked, tracing the edge of the blindfold before finally giving it a small upward tug over her head and letting it flutter to the ground.

Miranda squinted, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light and fell back into Peter's chest. Both his arms were around her now, his cheek nuzzled into her hair as she gripped his arms for balance. There were mountains in the distance and below them, as far as she could see, nothing but gardens, fruit trees, a lily pond decorated with the most adoring flowers, cobblestone walkways and what seemed to be little cottages in the distance nestled in their own private sections.

"We," Peter lifted an arm waved in the far off direction of the mountains, "Should be down there…somewhere. Or so I'm told."

"Sweet holy… my God, Peter…" Miranda turned in his arms.

"Just, Peter will do," he grinned, capturing her lips. "Welcome to San Ysidro Ranch, Miranda."

She kept her wide eyes on the window as they drove down through the gardens, shaking her head in disbelief that, Peter, of all people, was able to find a place like this. They pulled up to the main building and Miranda's hand went to the door handle.

"Wait," Peter's hand on her arm stopped her. He smiled and gently kissed her cheek and held up a single digit. He quickly exited the car and was back at her side momentarily offering her a hand. Miranda chuckled and slipped her hand in his. He pulled her up to meet him.

"I have a lot of time to make up for, Randi, I best do it right," he winked, sliding an arm along her back. "Come on."

He led her inside past a roaring stone fireplace and into the pristine lobby with French doors opening up to overlook the land. Peter smiled warmly at the elderly woman behind the desk and tossed a pair of cards up.

"Reservation for Carlisle."

Miranda laughed and shook her head; he even went as far as to use his given name. He really was dropping it all this week, tearing down the wall.

The old woman smiled, "Ahh yes, fabulous choice, Peter. It's been some time, where've you been?"

Peter shrugged and tilted his head.

She looked to Miranda and nodded, "They'd be so proud of you."

"Yeah, well, I'll never know," Peter smiled sadly and his grip around Miranda's waist tightened slightly.

Miranda continued to watch on in confusion. Was this his usual weekend getaway spot? Did he drag all the girls he liked here? She shook the thought from her head. Peter might have been a little bit…okay a lot a bit of a man whore, but this was someplace special. And if she did happen to find out it was his girly getaway she'd take away his ability to reproduce.

The woman pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Peter, both her hands covering his.

"There are so much of them in you, Peter. All that love, how can you not feel that? Their pride. I know they're proud of you and I know they're watching after you." She leaned in and smiled, "It's what keeps you coming back." She patted his hand and released him. "Go on then, enjoy yourself."

"Thank you," Peter nodded and steered Miranda back out the door and into the car.

"Peter what in holy hell was that!?" Miranda asked in a hushed whisper once they were on their way back down the pathways.

"Hmm?" he hummed, "Oh… nothing, later perhaps." He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Peter James-"

"Miranda Lynne," he teased. They stopped in front of a gated cottage and he pressed a button on a small remote allowing the gate to swing open and he pulled the car inside, parking it in the driveway. Peter sighed and draped an arm around her neck and pulled his forehead to hers.

"Randi, this place-" he cupped her face in his hands, "I needed to bring you here," he smiled, his lips tenderly brushing against hers. "We're wasting daylight sitting in the car," he mumbled against her with an eyebrow wiggle.

Miranda chuckled and pushed him away shoving open her door and stepping out. The cottage was breathtaking. Moss creeping up the stone sides, a few trees directly out front. They were softly nestled on a hill side, their own little private slice of heaven. She wandered off to the back, her hand dragging along the flowers with a smile on her face. Out back there was a little patio with an in ground hot tub, she was sure Peter would find use for that; and beyond that a small slope with a rocky creek and a private waterfall. Miranda grinned; carefully she worked her way down and leaned over the creek, letting her fingers drag through the cascading water.

"Don't fall in," his smooth voice flowed into her ears. She jumped and spun around to see him standing directly behind her. He was standing there in the light of the setting sun, hands in his pockets and nothing but raw emotion in his eyes.

"Peter this is amazing," she gasped without stretched arms.

"You're amazing," he said simply with a blink and a smile. He took a step towards her.

"I- I would have been happy at a Hilton you know," she grinned, matching his step.

"I wouldn't have," he stepped again, their bodies touching. His hands left their pockets and settled on her hips.

She raked her fingers along the length of his chest before joining her fingers behind his neck and pulling him down to meet her wanting lips. His tongue traced her bottom lip asking permission to enter and she had no objection.

He tasted sweet, like lemonade and strawberries. If she had it her way Peter wouldn't touch that nasty drink again. Come to think of it he hadn't smoked in a while either. His hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans and squeezed gently and she lightly laughed into his mouth.

"I think that fourteen year old boy wants to come out and play," she smiled against him.

"You have no idea," he groaned, pushing her up to meet his hips.

"Inside?" she whispered suggestively, her hands slid down his chest and settled on his belt.

Peter nodded quickly, lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her up the slope and in through the back door right into the bedroom.

She took a moment to take in the wonder of the room, fireplace, four poster canopy bed, crisp and vibrant colors, warm and inviting.

"Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter," she repeated quietly.

He was standing in the corner, toeing off his converse and shrugging off his jacket.

"Hmm?" He turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

Miranda only smiled and shook her head before leaping into his arms, her legs firmly wrapping themselves around his small waist.

"Oh ha, hello," he laughed, teetered back slightly, grinning as she peered down at him with dark adoring eyes, her hair falling in a curtain around his face.

She ran her hands over his light stubble, kissing his cheek, and then the other before landing lightly on his lips, she then leaned back to pull her shirt over her head. Peter backed them up until he was seated on the bed and then her small hands made quick to dispose of his shirt as well, pushing his shoulders back and pinning him down as she explored his mouth.

Peter turned her over, kissing down her neckline, moving down to her throat, and then pressing butterfly kisses to her abdomen, stopping just above the button on her jeans. He came back up, claiming her mouth with his own as his hands slid the denim down her legs and onto the floor, soon followed by his own. She stifled a cry by biting into his shoulder when he pushed into her, her hand fisting in his hair. She tightened her legs around his hips, seeking out his mouth with her own. She needed to taste him, to breathe with him as one while they moved.

He quickened the pace, his hand sliding down and answering to her body's begging needs.

"God, Peter," she breathed out, whimpering in his hold.

"Miranda, I-"

She silenced him with her lips, moaning into his mouth, one hand tugging at his hair the other clawing at his back. His own cries followed soon after; sweat dripping down from his forehead and into her hair. She grinned, rolling him over and pressing a sound kiss to his lips, his forehead, his cheeks, before falling to his side with a content sigh and a heaving chest.

Peter wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"We've got this place for a week?" Miranda asked with a slyness in her voice.

"Yeah," Peter breathed.

Miranda let out a single laugh, rolling back on top of him and dropped a kiss to the side of his neck. "Mmm, hope that's long enough," she purred, nipping his ear lobe.

"God, I love you," he grinned, lifting his head to steal a kiss.

"I know."

* * *

><p>The days dragged on perfectly. Everything was perfect. The setting, the atmosphere, Peter, every so often she would catch herself pinching the inside of her arm just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. They strolled through the gardens, took night time dips in the hot tub, he took the time to draw her a warm bubble bath after eating each night.<p>

On day four, after just returning from the stone house from dinner, she lay on the couch with her head on his lap in front of the fire place, a bottle of wine in the ice bucket. Peter's hands idly combed through her locks as his eyes bore into the flames, his mind clearly drifting.

"Hey," she called softly, running a hand down his leg. "Where'd you go? You okay?"

He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Perfect," he whispered. He tapped her shoulders, urging her to sit up and adjusted himself so he was sitting long ways on the couch and then pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his cheek to hers. She giggled at the tickle of his stubble.

"Miranda," he said her name gently.

"Hmm?"

"Do you remember, last week-"

"A lot happened last week Peter," she cut him off with a chuckle.

"I know," he pressed a kiss to her cheek, "but let me finish." He squeezed his eyes shut and started again. "Last week, I…I asked you to stay with me, when we were in the bath. I asked you to stay right here, with me, forever-"

"Peter-" Miranda tried to turn but he held her tightly.

"I meant it, Miranda. I meant it then, I mean it now. I…" he took a breath, pressing more kisses to her now flushed cheeks. "I love you, I love you so much, more than anything you can imagine. I just…I want, I want…" It was Peter who turned her now and she happily obliged, making it so her knees were under her body.

"You want what, Peter?" she asked, gingerly running a hand through his hair.

His eyes were glossy when he took her hands in his with a warm smile. He brought them to his mouth and kissed them. He reached into his pocket with one hand, his warm brown eyes never leaving hers as he did so; and she felt something slip over her finger.

"What I want, Miranda Lynne Cooper, is to spend the rest of my life with you, if you'll have me."

Miranda fell back on her legs one hand going to her mouth while her eyes remained glued to the ring that was daintily sitting on her finger. Tears were stinging the backs of her eyes she honestly didn't know how to answer, what to answer.

"Peter, how…where-" she breathed, running a hand down her face.

"It was mum's. I've always know it was you, Randi, there's never been a doubt in my mind. I…I just needed something to show me I was ready. Then you found me, you came back and I don't want to live without you."

"Peter, we haven't even been together a month!" she snapped, her hand automatically flying over her mouth. "Sorry, I...I didn't mean that. I meant…fuck," she whispered

"I know what you meant," he said softly, "And that's my fault. I regret getting on that train every day of my life. But what if I didn't? You heard what he said, maybe he would have killed me, and then I wouldn't be with you today." Peter leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Just think about it, okay?" He stood and with slumped shoulders made his way back to the bedroom. "Think I'm going to turn in early."

Miranda heard the door close and fell back on the couch and groaned into one of the pillows. She chased vampires around the country while he slept with the entire west coast. Neither of them was particularly ready for marriage. She closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. That didn't seem to matter. No matter how far into her life she looked there was always one constant and that was Peter, that much would never change. She twirled the metal band on her finger. His mother's band. She could only imagine young Peter grasping at the ashes of his parents for mementos; it broke her heart even more.

She pushed herself up off the couch and tiptoed into the bedroom. Peter was turned on his side, eyes open staring at the wall. She crawled into the bed next to him, brushing a hand through his hair and dropping a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you, Peter. I just need some time."

"I thought you were tired of waiting, Miranda," he replied dryly.

Miranda sighed, "We'll talk tomorrow." She rolled onto her back, waiting for him to curl next to her but it never came. Peter made it clear he was staying put for the evening. Silent tears crept down her cheeks as she lied there staring up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come and carry her away into a better place.

* * *

><p>She woke to an empty bed and the smell of coffee permeating through the door. She shuffled out and found Peter sitting at the table in the dining area, wearing his t shirt and boxers, mindlessly stirring his spoon across from a matching cup.<p>

"Thanks," she said quietly taking the chair opposite him. "Thought you weren't one for coffee."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't allowed to bring any liquor," he complained with a huff.

"Sleep well?"

She knew he did, shit she had been there, he'd been sleeping through the night ever since their first night back in the penthouse. She just wanted to hear his voice, to have him back to his normal self. He obviously had this planned out much differently in his head.

"Mmm," he nodded.

This was ridiculous. She reached over the table and grabbed his stirring hand. "Peter, I didn't say no," she smiled with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"You…what?" He sat back and focused his eyes on her now, a small tug pulling at his lips. The first one she had seen since the previous night.

Miranda's phone started to ring from the counter. She hugged his head to her chest when she got up to answer it, pressing a kiss to his hair. "I didn't say no," she repeated, reaching over and grabbing her phone before it stopped ringing. "It's dad," she said flatly.

"Answer it, Miranda," Peter sighed pushing back his chair and dumping the contents of his cup in the sink.

"Hello, you've reached Miranda Cooper, if you're calling to scold, argue or yell in anyway please hang up and try your call again later," Miranda breathed into the receiver and waited for her father's response.

"So, how many girls did you have to kick out?" came his snide reply.

"Jesus dad," she huffed.

"Come on, Miranda. I went to one once you know. One of his shows, just to see what it was all about. Girls lining up at the stage doors just to catch a glimpse of that fool."

"Dad just stop. Peter is first and foremost my friend, that will never change, no matter your thoughts of him."

"You're not kids any more, Randi. Go out and make new damned friends!" He yelled into her ear.

"I don't need to!" she shot back, slamming her hand down on the counter. She felt a hand land on her back and a pair of lips ghost over her cheek.

Peter reached down and gave her hand a quick squeeze. "I'm going for a walk," he said softly.

Miranda nodded.

"What was that?" her father barked.

"What was what?"

"Was that him, is he there? It's just now nine in the morning."

"I'm well aware of the time, it showed up when you interrupted my coffee."

"Is. He. There?" her father repeated.

"If he is? I'm all grown up now daddy, you said it yourself."

Peter gave her a small hopeful smile and a wave silently closing the doors behind him as he left the cottage.

"That boy ruined you and you ran back to him the minute you found out where he was. He'll use you, Miranda. Use you and then spit you back out into the streets of society and leave just like before." Christopher took a breath. "Why him?"

"BECAUSE HE WAS THERE FOR ME WHEN YOU WEREN'T!" she yelled, sliding down along the cabinets and landing on the heated tile.

"Why didn't you tell me about my birthday card?" she countered.

"What?"

"Peter sent me a birthday card on my twenty first birthday. Yet you never gave it to me. Why?"

"He lied," her father said flatly.

"No, you just did. You sent it back, and he kept it."

"Randi-" Christopher's voice softened.

"No, you know what I did for my birthday, you let me wander out alone and get drunk where my best friends watched his parents got murdered. That's right, murdered. Just me, a bottle of vodka and my memories of washing the stains out of blood stained carpeting."

"I-I had no idea, Miranda," he stammered.

"Yeah well now you do," she sniffed warm tears creeping their way out the corners of her eyes.

"You could have told me."

"No, it wasn't that easy. There are things in this world you'll never understand and I won't ask you to. But unfortunately Peter does in the worst of ways and when he left he did it to save me and in turn it ended up saving us both."

"Miranda what the hell are you talking about?" Christopher asked.

"Shut up, I'm not done. I don't need you to understand, I'm not asking you to, not now, not ever. I just want you to want me to be happy, and for that to happen, Peter will have to play a big part of my life."

Her father sighed into the phone. "How big, Randi?"

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

"_BECAUSE HE WAS THERE FOR ME WHEN YOU WEREN'T!"_ Peter could hear her scream through the door even after it was shut and debated whether or not to turn back. No. He'd let things go for now, she needed to deal with her father on her own. She would regret it one day if she didn't; lord knows he regretted all the times he fought with his father and never made up for it.

He walked until he was halfway down the creek side behind the property and crossed the small wooden bridge to the other side. He approached the water fall and smiled down at the three small rocks that led to the ledge behind it, a nice cool place to clear your head.

Peter let his head fall back against the stone wall and blew his hair from his eyes. Had he thought she was going to just jump into his arms and smother him with sweet kisses saying yes over and over again? Had he thought she was going to light up like the fourth of July and cling to his neck until he couldn't breathe? Well, yes…in fact that is exactly what he thought would happen. And now he was kicking himself for ever thinking such a thing. What was he going to do now? No, she didn't say no, but she hadn't said yes either. So what? They go back to Vegas and then she goes on her merry way when he goes back to the show. The mere thought of that was ripping his heart in two. She couldn't just leave. Could she? After all the years they had spent apart.

There was a light splashing from out in the creek in front of him and Peter straightened up to get a better view. He chuckled at the sight of a fuming Miranda, who was now tugging her jeans up to her knees to retrieve her tossed flip flop. She shrieked at the cold-ness of the water, but only momentarily, standing to let it run over her calves as her legs got used to the temperature. She slowly made her way to the middle and was now only a few feet from him. She bent down and instead of grabbing her shoe right away she cupped a handful of water and tossed it on her face, letting her hands fall down to expose an annoyed smirk.

Peter smiled, watching her as she got lost in the beauty of the mountain side view. He couldn't help himself; he needed to be near her, quickly. It didn't matter what the answer was now, he would wait for her for all eternity; but right now in this moment he just wanted her back into his arms. He took a step forward and reached an arm through the water and tugged her straight through the waterfall and into the other side, both of them stumbling back into the rock wall.

"Oh!" she cried out, her eyes closed and mouth hanging open, standing in front of him dripping wet. She blinked up at him. "Peter! That was freezing! I'm soaked!" she laughed, pushing her hair back and then swatting him on the chest.

"It would appear so," he grinned.

She reached up and gently brushed the hair from his eyes, her fingers trailing down his cheek. He leaned into her touch and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Yes."

"Well, let's get you in and dried off, before you catch cold," he said tugging at the hem of her wet shirt.

Miranda placed her other hand on his face, so now she had both sides, "No, Peter…Yes," she whispered with a grin.

"Yes?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," she said once more adding a nod. "A thousand times yes."

Peter's mouth dropped open slightly and he quickly inhaled a breath while his eyes darted all around them. A smile began to grow on his face and he wrapped his arms around her small wet frame and promptly picked her up and started to spin her around, laughing and giggling all the while.

"You're sure?" he asked with glistening eyes.

"I don't know why I wasn't before," she beamed in reply.

He brought his lips down on hers never breaking the smile that was on face.

"One condition," she said, pulling away. "Carlisle, no fucking way am I changing my last name to Vincent."

"I fucking love you," he all but growled, bringing his head down to nuzzle her neck and press sweet open mouthed kisses to the exposed damp skin that was there.

"I love you too, Peter."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The French doors in the bedroom were open and they could just barely hear the water from the creek from the bed. Peter lie with his head resting on Miranda's stomach, her fingers lost deep in his thick hair. She'd always loved running her hands through his dark tresses, even when they were young she would find excuses to muss with it.

"Tell me about the woman in the lobby," Miranda requested.

"Now?" Peter gently laughed, his big dark eyes blinking up at her.

She only stared at him in response.

"Right, my dad's first big client owned the ranch at the time, my folks were only dating then, and I wasn't even in the picture. When they won, he told him to fly his family over some time for holiday…well dad wasn't one for planning family trips so he invited mum. They were taken in by the magic and well…she said yes much quicker," Peter teased.

"Your father proposed to your mom…here?"

Peter nodded, "Mmhmm."

"Well, I fucked that up," Miranda scoffed to herself.

Peter sat up and crawled to her side. "No, Randi, don't say that," he whispered, kissing her softly. "I probably should have waited, but I couldn't. I just couldn't."

"Well I'm glad," she beamed. "Now keep going."

"Not much to it after that really. We came once a year on holiday in the spring. We would stay for a week; Gertie was in charge of children's activities then."

"And what?" Miranda laughed, "She took a liking to you."

"Not particularly," Peter chuckled, "She was the wife of my dad's client. They became friends with my parents, she watched me grow up more or less."

The look in his eyes fell and he took a breath, seeking out her hand on the blanket. "When I made it to the states, after I left you, I came here," a sad smile passed over his lips. "She took care of me for a little while, but I couldn't risk staying long. Gertie is the closest thing I would consider to family, besides you."

Miranda wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him to her chest. "What was his name, the client?"

"Don't know," Peter shrugged, "All I remember is that he didn't like kids." Peter wrapped his arms around her middle and hugged her tightly.

"It had to be here, Miranda. It wouldn't have felt right asking you anywhere else, it almost like I can feel them here."

"Your parents were amazing, Peter. They poured all their love into every part of you and it shows. She was right, Peter, they would be proud. Yes, you hit some bumps, but who hasn't? They would be so proud of you. I'm proud of you." She pressed a kiss to his hair line.

There was no doubt in her mind that they wouldn't be proud of the man that was lying here today, lord knows he was far from perfect, even that wasn't entirely his fault, but he was here now. He committed to changing things when he went down in that lair barely over a week ago, he grew up. That spark of the malicious teenager would always be there, but for some reason she didn't think she would mind that much.

"Me?" Peter laughed darkly, "The boy who spent his life hiding?" He sat up so his eyes could settle on hers, a disappointing sadness washing into them.

Miranda cupped his face. "You, Peter. The man who just aided in saving all those lives down in that cellar, the same man who made an impossible decision when he was only a boy, a boy who witnessed terrible things. Who also decided to stay and fight to make sure I made it out okay. The very same man why changed my life and made it worth living." She pressed her lips to his inhaling with shaky breath and pressing against his forehead when she broke away. "And I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

A smile spread out on Peters face and he quickly captured her lips. "Miranda Carlisle," the name rolled off his tongue intimately and with ease. He licked his lips, "I already love the sound of that." He fell to his back and laced his fingers with hers, kissing the skin above her ring finger and resting their hands on his chest.

"What of your father, Randi? If he was mad at me before I can only imagine his feelings toward me when he finds out about this."

"He knows," she said flatly.

Peter's eyebrow quirked and Miranda's face fell slightly.

"He's less than thrilled; I doubt he would come to a ceremony. Bottom line, Peter, I told him you weren't going anywhere; and after he lied to me about the card, well…in the end I told him I loved him, but I loved you too and I'm not willing to let that go to make daddy dearest happy."

"He's going to shoot me in my sleep," Peter grumbled under his breath.

"What?" she laughed.

"Military, Miranda, lord only knows what he's capable of. The man has had a noose around my balls since I was fourteen."

She watched his adams apple bob with a hard swallow and as shuddering sigh. He was actually worried about her father. Not that Christopher Cooper wasn't intimidating, it was just that here he was a grown man and her father still held that fear over him.

"Oh, Peter," she said with a dreamy sigh when she could breathe again. She leaned over him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "If anyone is going to go after your _boys_," she paused, raising an eyebrow and allowing her hand to lightly skim the top of his shorts. "It's going to be me."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**A/N: Whoo! What a doozy huh? Talk a bout long! almost 6k long! and 13 pages of word I had to cut it off...I probably could have kept going, but I had to stop. I know it took forever, I'd apologize, but we all know how I suck about updating and with NANOWRIMO starting at midnight you will probably have to wait a month to see a wedding so...yea...I'll apologize for that. But I will give you one! Happy Halloween and all that jazz, now I have a Dalek dress to finish by Saturday so I bid you all well! Hope you all enjoyed, let me know regardless, Peter would appreciate it.**

**Shelly!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Almost Bliss**

Miranda let out a content sigh at the finger lazily trailing up and down her spine. She rolled her head to the side to see Peter propped up on his elbow peering down at her through lidded lashes and a light smile pulling at his lips.

"Hey," she whispered.

Peter brought his head down and pressed a kiss to the base of her shoulder. "Hi," he murmured against her skin. He nuzzled his head into her neckline and let out a breath, pulling her close.

Miranda glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Peter, you have to get up."

"I am up," he teased, nibbling on her ear lobe.

She giggled and rolled over to face him, running her fingers through his hair. "_Out of bed_," she stressed.

"Well, I'm sure that could be arranged as well. Shower, counter top, chaise lounge-"

She silenced him with a slow kiss and then rolled to the end of the bed, plucking his robe from the floor and sliding it on. "You're going to be late," she scolded. "It's the last show before the wedding, Pete; the least you can do for them is be on time."

"Right, I'm the one getting married, shouldn't they be doing things for me?" he quipped with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah," she smirked, "I made them promise not to kill you."

"C'mon, Randi, I'm not all that bad. You've made a new man out of me." He sat up allowing the sheets to pool at his middle.

She chuckled, "You, Mister Vincent, proposed to me; and you're still the same cocky, arrogant, cheeky bastard you've always been."

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling on his shorts and making his way out of the bedroom and out to the bar. Liquor for breakfast, some things would never change. He grimaced before swallowing and set the tumbler down, narrowing his eyes at Miranda who was now standing with her hip propped against the wall beside him.

"So why'd you agree then? Hmm?"

Miranda shook her head at his bull headed-ness and smiled softly. She stepped over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. "Because, Peter, you're _my_ cocky, arrogant, cheeky bastard." She placed a kiss to his chest. "And you have the most adorable bed head." She reached up and ruffled his hair and joined her fingers behind his neck.

"Adorable? Miranda, I am not-"

She pressed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Shh, yes you are," she whispered. "Now, go, get ready, before you're late."

The intercom buzzed and Peter let out a groan. "Who the fuck is that at this hour?"

"Peter it's nearly noon." Miranda scampered off and went to get dressed, she had people coming over to finish fitting her dress today and she didn't want to be prancing around in her underwear and a robe when they arrived.

"Yeah?" she heard Peter's gruff voice call.

"Mr. Vincent, there is somebody down here who is insisting that he comes up." The new security guy, Randy, was decent enough, a bit young, and Peter often got impatient with him (just like he did with everyone) but Miranda liked him just the same.

"Well who is it? The fucking milkman?"

"Be nice, Peter!" Miranda called from the other room.

"Actually sir, he says he is here to see Ms. Cooper."

Miranda stuck her head back out into the living room and pressed the intercom button on the wall. "I'm sorry what?"

"Oh, good morning Miran-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she rattled off, she thought the kids crush on her was cute but she didn't have time for his chit chat. "Who exactly is down there, Randy?"

"Oooh, now look at who is being mean," Peter said with a teasing smirk, polishing off his tumbler of midori and crossing the room. He pressed a kiss to her head, "I'm taking a shower, then I'm off, yeah?"

Miranda nodded and the intercom clicked back on. "Some foreign guy, tall, dark hair, says his name is…Dimitri."

Miranda raised her eyebrows and was about to press the button when Peter's hand shot out and covered it completely.

"NO!"

"Peter!" Miranda hissed. "I thought you were taking a shower."

"That…thing is not coming up here, Miranda," he scowled.

"That _man_, Peter, saved our lives. If he's here obviously it's important."

"Mi-ran-da-" he drew out with a slight whine, "He practically drools over you."

"Oh, so you're jealous?" she chuckled.

"No." Peter looked away with pink cheeks.

"See there, adorable." She pressed a kiss to his blushed cheek and squeezed his hand. "I'll go down there, okay?"

Peter gave her a single nod but his frown remained.

"I'm marrying you, Peter. _My, Peter Carlisle_, whom I fell in love with when I was just a teenager; and now I'm going to go down there and say hello to the guy who helped us put down his own brother so we could be together. Okay?"

He bent down and captured her lips with hers, his arms pulling her tightly against him as his tongue gently tasted the remains of mouthwash on her mouth. She sighed and fell into him.

"And now, you're late."

"It was worth it," he muttered, pulling her back to him for a second go around.

Miranda giggled and managed to pull away before he managed to drag her back into the bedroom. She gave him a playful push and told him to "get a move on." She pressed the buzzer, knowing full well that Dimitri was still pacing down in the hotel lobby.

"Randy?"

"Yes, Ms. Cooper," his excited young voice replied.

"I'll be right down."

* * *

><p>.<p>

Dimitri was leaning against the security desk, his dark hair falling in front of his dark green eyes and a smirk playing on his lips when Miranda stepped off of the elevator into the lobby. He ignored all the flirty looks and giggles from the girls that passed and kept his gaze strictly on her.

Miranda scolded herself for thinking about how good he looked. Cocky smirk and all. Why did she have the need to be associated with egotistical men? She sauntered up to him, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head upward.

"Dimitri."

"Hello, Miranda," his slick accent purred. He held his arms out to his sides. "What no hug?"

She glanced back at the elevator, half expecting Peter to walk out at any given second even though she knew he was still getting ready. "Yeah…no, I don't think that'd be wise, all things considering."

"Ahh, yes, your boy tends to run a bit on the jealous side, don't he," he quipped. "Lunch then? My treat."

Miranda sighed. "Okay, but we stay here. I have an appointment at three."

"Wedding planner?"

"Dress fitting."

Miranda's mind suddenly sparked, she hadn't said anything about the wedding, in fact it was all pretty hush, hush around here. Peter Vincent the magician and her Peter were two different people, she intended to keep it that way. Unfortunately this meant Peter Vincent's bachelor status still had to remain such that, or at least be the illusion of one.

"I never told you I was getting married," she said quietly through narrowed eyes.

Dimitri cast a look back at Randy behind the desk, "Security isn't so secure after all." He swooped up her left hand in his and ran his thumb over the ring on her finger. "I believe congratulations are I order," he whispered.

"Thank you," she whispered, her cheeks turning hot as she averted his lush green gaze.

"Now, let's get some food. This being human thing means I actually have to eat." He offered out an arm to her and she tentatively slipped her own through. He patted her hand and smiled down at her. "See there, not so bad."

"I never said you were bad, Dimitri," she chuckled, "I'd just rather not deal with a pissy Peter, I like the charm your pants off Peter better," she added with a bounce of her eyebrows.

* * *

><p>They sat at across from each other at the hotel restaurant, Miranda sipping on a glass of wine, eyeing the man opposite of her that was scarfing down an impossible amount of food. Apparently four hundred years of sucking blood and then going back to normal will build quite the appetite.<p>

"So, why are you here, Dimitri?"

"Just wanted to stop in and say hi," he mumbled out in between bites.

"Don't play coy with me, it's been well over six months and all of a sudden you want to say _hello_?" She raised a pointed finger at him as she swished her glass.

Dimitri scoffed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before tossing it down on his plate and folding his fingers together beneath his chin. "Okay, so maybe there were intentions behind my visit."

"What kind of intentions?" Her dark eyes narrowed.

"A while back a bunch of cattle started to go missing in farming communities in New York."

"I'm aware." She recalled the news articles she had opened just before she and Peter had left on their getaway and Peters disconcerting look when she assured him she was only looking out of curiosity.

"I assumed it was some sort of veggie thing. All the houses there are close knit and don't prey on humans."

Dimitri laughed, "Ha! That's what they wanted you to think."

Miranda was getting impatient with his beating around the bush. She tugged at her hair and leaned forward against the table. "Who, Dimitri?"

"Blood runners," he whispered, the corner of his mouth lifting over his teeth.

"I'm sorry what?"

"Ohhh, Miranda, don't tell me you're that far out of the loop. I thought you were good at what you did," he scoffed.

"I know what they are, asshole," she snarled, "They simply don't exist anymore. They put an end to it when they started taking human slaves and…" Miranda paused and scrunched up her face, "_breeding them_ to make the most desirable outcomes. Of course that was the genius of it, they lived in plain sight, never killing, only bleeding the captured until they were in a weakened state and building them back up again. And they paid good money out for others to care and bleed the ones they worked so hard on. After all, good quality blood is hard to come by."

"Blood like yours," Dimitri said in a hushed tone, licking his lips at the memory. He might have been human but he could still remember the feeling her fluid had given him.

"So I've been told." She finished off the wine in her glass. "So, I repeat, what do you want?"

Dimitri leaned closer to her, "There's a nice bounty on that crew, Miranda, with blood running being frowned upon and all. Especially in veggie land."

Miranda scooted back in her chair, "No! Absolutely not! I'm getting married in a week, Dimitri; I promised Peter I was done."

"For Christ's sake, Miranda all we'd have to do is cross the border! Your blood is enough for them to take interest. Think of the money!" he hissed.

The waiter came over and she placed an order for a sandwich to go for Peter. Somebody had to make sure he ate during the day.

"I don't need it!" she snapped.

"Then think of the hunt, you know you miss it. There was a fire in your eyes the night you almost took me out, you were born for this," he egged.

"No."

"Children, Miranda, they are taking innocent children and bleeding them close to death just to get a tasty drink." He cocked his head and waited for her response.

"K-kids? They are using kids!?" She had to restrain herself from yelling.

"They heal faster," he shrugged.

Miranda fisted her hands in her hair and tugged at her scalp. She was going to regret this. Peter was going to be furious and in a pissy mood for lord only knows how long. Why couldn't she have a normal life? Oh, right, her life hadn't been normal since she was seventeen.

"Fine. But it's an in and out job," she said flatly.

Dimitri reached out and grabbed her hand in his, squeezing firmly and giving her a nod.

"And Peter is coming as well."

"He'll be a distraction, Miranda," he warned.

Miranda shook her head, "I don't care, where he goes I go. Understand?"

Dimitri scowled but gave her an affirmative nod.

Miranda scooped up the now delivered sandwich and crossed over to his side of the table. She gently squeezed his shoulders, bending down to whisper in his ear. "You better not fuck this up, Dimitri; I fought too hard to get him back." She quickly pecked his cheek. "Thanks for lunch!" she called over her shoulder, briskly walking away from him and in the direction of the theater.

* * *

><p>.<p>

She shouldn't have been surprised to have seen Peter marching around the stage with a series of fuck's streaming out of his mouth at anyone that passed by him. He had always had a short temper and the thing with Dimitri stopping by was obviously still mulling under his skin.

"Hey, Tom," she sighed, as she approached the side of the stage.

"Here to perform a miracle, Randi?" he replied dully, watching a leather clad Peter yell at the makeup girl.

She clapped him on the back, "I'll see what I can do."

Miranda climbed the steps, sandwich behind her back and carefully made her way across the stage, receiving welcoming nods from the crew.

Coming up behind him she cleared her throat, "Mr. Vincent," she said, laying the sweet on real thick.

"What!" he spun around, his hardened look instantly softening (though not by much) when he realized it was her. "Done already?" he quipped, side stepping her and making his way back stage.

"Brought you lunch," she said softly, walking quickly to catch up to his long strides. "Peter, cut the shit! You don't like him, I get it, but he still saved your ass when he could have just walked away."

"Because you asked him too," Peter replied dully, slowly turning to her.

"Yes, I did." She stepped closer to him, running her hand past that ridiculous fake goatee and letting it. "Because I love you."

He sighed, running his hand up her arm and curling his fingers around hers before turning his head and pressing a kiss to her palm.

She brought up the Styrofoam container and wiggled it in front of him. "So…lunch?"

His smiled with a nod and started to lead her out the side hall door.

"Hey!" Tom yelled from across the stage, "Where the hell are you going? We still have four hours left!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Peter muttered under his breath, starting to turn around.

Miranda gently put a hand on his chest and held a finger up, brushing past him and over to Tom.

"Look, you wanted a miracle, I said I'd work on it, give me a half hour."

"Twenty minutes," he retorted.

"Tom-"

"Look, Randi, we have a lot of changes that he is still getting used to, I can't afford any longer than that."

Miranda nodded, "Twenty minutes."

* * *

><p>Peter was already crouched on the ground, half way through his sandwich when she walked through the side exit doors. She sat down beside him, letting her head fall back against the wall.<p>

"Better?"

"Mmm, getting there." He licked his fingers and casually brushed them on her jeans.

"Hey!" she scolded, earning her a giggle from him and he pulled her into his side, resting his cheek on top of her head.

"Don't you have that dress…thing today?"

"Later, right now it's just you." She threaded her fingers with his, "For the next fifteen minutes."

Peter moved so he could look down at her and raised an eyebrow, "You don't say?" He quickly moved in front of her, slinking an arm around her back and pulling her forward so he could gently lie her down until he was hovering over her. "We could do plenty in fifteen minutes." He pulled off his wig and tossed it aside before bringing his mouth down onto hers.

"It takes you longer than that to _put those blasted pants on_, Peter," she chuckled.

He began to press feather light kisses down her neck as a hand moved to the button of her jeans. "Well, then," he growled against her skin, "We'll just have to work on your pants instead."

She all but whimpered when his fingers slipped beneath the waistband, her hands fisting in his hair as their lips met and his tongue swept in over hers.

"Peter," she panted, "we can't, not here, not now."

Peter bit down gently on her collar bone and she buried her head in his shoulder to muffle her small cry. "You're not putting up much of a fight, Cooper," he said gruffly.

"Yeah, well you're making a good argument." She moaned again when his hand wiggled inside her jeans and his fingers danced across the surface of her panties. "Peter," she breathed.

"Yeah?" his dark lined eyes were staring down into hers.

"Times up."

"S'not," he murmured against her neck, pressing his fingers in a little deeper, causing her to squirm.

"Pe-TER!" she cried out, "Peter, stop, oh god, just…"

He removed his hand and looked down upon her with a heavy smirk. "Yes?"

"Later," she breathed, pulling his forehead down to hers, "And we won't have to rush."

"Oh, I never rush, Miranda, I'm a very patient man."

She didn't even bother to hold back the scoff that built up inside of her, "Like hell you are, Pete."

He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her hair, letting his fingers trail until they rested on her chin and he slowly brought his lips down to hers. "With you, Randi, I'll always, be patient." He kissed her again. "For you."

* * *

><p>He walked her back to the theater main doors, stupid wig back in place and ready to continue on with his day and in a much better mood than he had been prior. She still had a couple hours before the dress people showed up, she'd probably go upstairs and take a well needed cold shower…<em>or make use of that Jacuzzi tub,<em> he thought with a wry grin.

"So do I get a preview photo?" he asked with a wink.

"That's bad luck and you know it," she scolded him lightly, complete with a small swat to the shoulder.

"Seriously, Miranda, look where we are," he grinned.

"And look _who_ we are, Peter," she retorted, "We don't have the best of luck as it is."

"Do I at least get to see mine?"

She had managed to talk him into letting her pick his as well. She allowed him to tag along for the fitting but that was the end of it, the rest was not to be seen until the day of.

"Yeah, next week." She pressed up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. "I'll be waiting," she whispered lowly into his ear before returning to floor level and taking in her lower lip in a flirty smile.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The dress was fit to perfection, oh, and she knew he would agree with out a second glace. Even though she felt he would take many glances indeed. The white satin clung to her body and began to flow out at her hips into a chapel train. The top had embroidered black lace overlay and was corset style, lacing up with a thick black ribbon. Around the bottom were more embroidered lace flowers flowing around it.

Yup, perfection.

She did a twirl in the full length mirror and couldn't hold back the grin from spreading on her face.

"Oh my god, I love it!" Miranda turned to the Barbara, the dressmaker who now stood behind her in the bedroom smiling back. "It's beautiful!"

"He's going to eat you alive," the older woman chuckled.

The intercom buzzed and Miranda swished over to the door way to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Cooper, there is a Christopher Chapman down here wanting to see you. He's claiming to be your father," Randy's young voice came over the speaker.

Miranda backed up against the wall and started to slouch down; her eyes wide with…shock? Fear? She didn't know what it was.

"Hey, now, cut that out, you'll get all wrinkly!" Barbara scolded, attempting to lift her to her feet.

"Miranda?" Randy's voice came back into the room, "What would you like me to do?"

She shakily reached her hand up and pressed the button, "I-uh-s-send him up, Randy."

Miranda wasn't ready when the elevator dinged and it opened to reveal her father. His jaw dropped open when he saw she was standing there in her wedding gown and he immediately took her hands in his own and pressed a swift kiss to her cheek.

"You look amazing, Sweetheart."

"Thank you, daddy," she blushed and stared down at the floor tiles. "Why are you here?"

Christopher's eyes were warm when he smiled. "Is it not customary for the father of the bride to give his daughter away at the alter?"

Miranda tilted her head, "Well yes, but I assumed you were…I don't know," she shrugged, "angry."

He set his hands on his daughter's shoulders, shooting a pressing look into her eyes. "I might have been, but damn, Randi, I've always known you've loved that cocky bastard."

She laughed at his choice of words.

"What?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"I called him just that this morning," she laughed.

Christopher shook his head. "Does he at least make you happy? Because I swear to god, Miranda-"

Miranda nodded quickly, batting the tears in her eyes away with her hands before they could fall to her dress. "Yes, dad, I'm happy. We're happy." She bit back a chuckle. "He's going to be scared shitless once he finds out you're here, but we're happy."

Christopher leaned in and hugged her gently, and was suddenly being swatted away by an angry Barbara, scolding him "to get his grubby man hands off her hard work!"

"I'm staying in town for the week, if you want to see me beforehand that's great, if not…" he held up his palms in submission, "well, I know how it is."

"Daddy, stop, of course I want you there. I'll tell Peter tonight and we can have dinner sometime before rehearsals. It'll give him time to chill out."

"I'd like that."

Miranda smiled, "Me too." She hugged her father one last time, despite Barbara's hard stare and gently shooed him back toward the elevator. "I hate to rush you out, but I need to get out of this dress and go over some things."

_Like think of a way to tell Peter your here_, she thought.

He held up a hand in mock surrender, "Oh know, I'm far too familiar in how you girls get with wedding foolery, lord knows your mother drug me all around town for nearly two years for ours." Christopher stepped into the elevator and gave her a small wave. "See you soon, sweetheart."

Miranda nodded. A smile on her face while her mind was running through a million situations. The door sealed shut and she let out a held breath along with a very loud "FUCK!"

"Such a pretty face and a foul mouth," Barbara came up behind her and started to unlace my bodice. "You two are a match made in heaven."

"You have no idea," Miranda replied, dragging a hand down the length of her face. "No idea at all."

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><p>.<p>

**A/N: So I don't know where all this new fic love came from recently but to my new guest reviewers...holy mother of Moses, THANK YOU! lizz, Amber, and Ashley and my unnamed guest you are all fantastic! I heart you so heard right now. So I only intended on writing a wedding wrap up, but then Dimitri's sexy self whispered sweet nothings into my ear and...yeah...So It's gonna be left open after the Wedding. I may do a sequel, if I am still motivated, I certainly gave myself a plot to do so. For those of you who want to see Miranda's dress it is a combo of these**

** www .wedding -flowers-and-reception-ideas images/ black-and-white-wedding-dress-0001. jpg **

** www. coralsbridal 1049-2679-large/an414-black-accent-a-line-ball-wedding-dress. jpg**

**remove spaces and all that jazz. So let me know your current thoughts on our situation and let me see that love!**

**Shelly!**


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